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PREFACE. 



Maria Antoinette, Madame Roland, and 
Josephine are the three most prominent hero- 
ines of the French Revolution. The history 
of their lives necessarily records all the most 
interesting events of that most fearful tragedy 
which man has ever enacted. Maria Antoi- 
nette beheld the morning dawn of the Revolu- 
tion ; its lurid mid-day sun glared upon Mad- 
ame Roland ; and Josephine beheld the porten- 
tous phenomenon fade away. Each of these 
heroines displayed traits of character worthy 
of all imitation. No one can read the history 
of their lives without being ennobled by the 
contemplation of the fortitude and grandeur of 
spirit they evinced. To the young ladies of 
our land we especially commend the Heroines 
of the French Revolution. 



I 



C N T E N T S. 



Chapter. Pajce 

I. LIFE IN MARTINIQUE 13 

11. MARRIAGE OF JOSEPHINE 31 

III. ARREST OF M. BEAUHARNAIS AND JOSEPHINE 48 

IV. SCENES IN PRISON 68 

V. THE RELEASE FROM PRISON 81 

VI. JOSEPHINE IN ITALY 105 

VII. JOSEPHINE AT MALMAISON 130 

VIII. JOSEPHINE THE WIFE OF THE FIRST CONSUL 149 

IX. DEVELOPMENTS OF CHARACTER 171 

X. THE CORONATION 198 

XI. JOSEPHINE AN EMPRESS 232 

XII. THE DIVORCE AND LAST DATS 282 



ENGRAVINGS. 



Page 

THE SIBYL 24 

THE WARNING 58 

THE PANTOMIBIE 85 

ISOLA BELLA 109 

THE INTERVIEW 156 

THE CORONATION 224 



JOSEPHINE. 

Chapter I. 
Life in Martinique. 



Martinique. Its varied beauties. 

ril HE island of Martinique emerges in tropi- 
-*- cal luxuriance from the bosom of the Ca- 
ribbean Sea. A meridian sun causes the whole 
land to smile in perennial verdure, and all the 
gorgeous flowers and luscious fruits of the torrid 
zone adorn upland and prairie in boundless pro- 
fusion. Mountains, densely wooded, rear their 
summits sublimely to the skies, and valleys 
charm the eye with pictures more beautiful 
than imagination can create. Ocean breezes 
ever sweep these hills and vales, and temper the 
heat of a vertical sun. Slaves, whose dusky 
limbs are scarcely veiled by the lightest cloth- 
ing, till the soil, while the white inhabitants, 
supported by the indolent labor of these unpaid 
menials, loiter away life in listless leisure and 
in rustic luxury. Far removed from the dissi- 



14 Josephine. [A.D. 1760. 

Birth of Josephine. Her parents' death. 

pating influences of European and American 
opulence, they dwell in their secluded island in 
a state of almost patriarchal simplicity. 

About the year 1760, a young French officer. 
Captain Joseph Gaspard Tascher, accompanied 
his regiment of horse to this island. While 
here on professional duty, he became attached 
to a young lady from France, whose parents, 
formerly opulent, in consequence of the loss of 
property, had moved to the West Indies to re- 
trieve their fortunes. But little is known re- 
specting Mademoiselle de Sanois, this young 
lady, who was soon married to M. Tascher. 
Josephine was the only child born of this union. 
In consequence of the early death of her mother, 
she was, while an infant, intrusted to the care 
of her aunt. Her father soon after died, and 
the little orphan appears never to have known 
a father's or a mother's love. 

Madame Renaudin, the kind aunt, who now, 
with maternal affection, took charge of the help- 
less infant, was a lady of wealth, and of great 
benevolence of character. Her husband was 
the owner of several estates, and lived surround- 
ed by all that plain and rustic profusion which 
characterizes the abode of, the wealthy planter. 
His large possessions, and his energy of oharac- 



A.D.1765.] LiFEf in^MaHtinique. 15 



M. Renaudin. His kind treatment of his slaves. 

ter, gave him. a wide influence over the island. 
He was remarkable for his humane treatment 
of his slaves, and for the successful manner with 
which he conducted the affairs of his plantations. 
The general condition of the slaves of Martin- 
ico at this time was very deplorable ; but on 
the plantations of M. Renaudin there was as 
perfect a state of contentment and of happiness 
as is consistent with the deplorable institution 
of slavery. . The slaves, many of tliem but re- 
cently torn from their homes in Africa, were 
necessarily ignorant, degraded, and supersti- 
tious. They knew nothing of those more ele- 
vated and refined enjoyments which the culti- 
vated mind so highly, appreciates, but which are 
so often also connected with the most exquisite 
suffering. Josephine, in subsequent life, gave 
a very vivid description of the wretchedness of 
the slaves in general, and also of the peace and 
harmony which, in striking contrast, cheered 
the estates of her uncle. When the days' tasks 
were done, the negroes, constitutionally light- 
hearted and merry, gathered around their cab- 
ins with songs and dances, often prolonged late 
into the hours of the night. They had never 
known any thing better than their present lot. 
They compared their condition with that of the 



16 Josephine. [A.D. 1765. 

Gratitude of the slaves. Josephine a universal favoiale;_ 

-. ^ 

slaves on the adjoining plantations, arid exulted 
in view of their own enjoyments. M. and Mad- 
ame Renaudin often visited their cabins, spoke 
words of kindness to them in their hours of 
sickness and sorrow, encouraged the formation 
of pure attachments and honorable marriage 
among the young, and took a lively interest in 
their sports. The slaves loved their kind mas- 
ter and mistress most sincerely, and manifested 
their affection in a thousand simple ways which 
touched the heart. 

Josephine imbibed from infancy the spirit of 
her uncle and aunt. She always spoke to the 
slaves in tones of kindness, and became a uni- 
versal favorite with all upon the plantations. 
She had no playmates but the little negroes, 
and she united with them freely in all their 
sports. Still, these little ebon children of bond- 
age evidently looked up to Josephine as to a 
superior being. She was the queen around 
whom they circled in affectionate homage. The 
instinctive faculty, which Josephine displayed 
through life, of winning the most ardent love 
of all who met her, while, at the same time, she 
was protected from any undue familiarity, she 
seems to have possessed even at that early day. 
The children, who were her companions in all 



A.D. 1765.] Life in Martinique. 17 

Hospitality of M. Renaudin. Society at his house. 

« ^ 

the sports of childhood, were also dutiful subjects 
ever ready to be obedient to her will. 

The social position of M. Renaudin, as one 
of the most opulent and influential gentlemen 
of Martinique, necessarily attracted to his hos- 
pitable residence much refined and cultivated 
society. Strangers from Europe visiting the 
island, planters of intellectual tastes, and ladies 
of polished manners, met a cordial welcome be- 
neath the spacious roof of this abode, where all 
abundance was to be found. Madame Renau- 
din had passed her early years in Paris, and her 
manners were embellished with that elegance 
and refinement which have given to Parisian 
society such a world-wide celebrity. There 
was, at that period, much more intercourse be- 
tween the mother country and the colonies than 
at the present day. Thus Josephine, though 
reared in a provincial home, was accustomed, 
from infancy, to associate with gentlemen and 
ladies who were familiar with the etiquette of 
the highest rank in society, and whose conver- 
sation was intellectual and improving. 
J, It at first view seems difficult to account for 
the high degree of mental culture which Jo- 
sephine displayed, when, seated by the side of 
Napoleon, she was the Empress of France. 
B 



18 Josephine. [A.D. 1765. 

Early education of Josephine. Her accomplifihments. 

Her remarks, her letters, her conversational ele- 
gance, gave indication of a mind thoroughly- 
furnished v^ith information and trained by se- 
vere discipline. And yet, from all the glimpses 
we can catch of her early education, it would 
seem that, with the exception of the accomplish- 
ments of music, dancing, and drawing, she was 
left very much to the guidance of her own in- 
stinctive tastes. But, like Madame Roland, 
she was blessed with that peculiar mental con- 
stitution, which led her, of her own accord, to 
treasure up all knowledge which books or con- 
versation brought within her reach. From 
childhood until the hour of her death, she was 
ever improving her mind by careful observation 
and studious reading. She played upon the 
harp with great skill, and sang with a voice of 
exquisite melody. She also read with a correct- 
ness of elocution and a fervor of feeling which 
ever attracted admiration. The morning of her 
childhood was indeed bright and sunny, and 
her gladdened heart became so habituated to 
joyousness, that her cheerful spirit seldom failed 
her even in the darkest days of her calamity. 
Her passionate love for flowers had interested 
her deeply in the study of botany, and she also 
became very skillful in embroidery, that aoQom- 



A.D. 1765.] Life in Martinique. 19 

Euphemie, She becomes Josephine's bosom companion. 

plishment which was once deemed an essential 
part of the education of every lady. 

Under such influences Josephine becanne a 
child of such grace, beauty, and loveliness of 
character as to attract the attention and the 
admiration of all who saw her. There was an 
afFeotionateness, simplicity, and frankness in her 
manners which won all hearts. Her most in- 
timate companion in these early years was a 
young mulatto girl, the daughter of a slave, and 
report said, with how much truth it is impossi- 
ble to know, that she was also the daughter of 
Captain Tascher before his marriage. Her 
name was Euphemie. She was a year or two 
older than Josephine, but she attached herself 
with deathless affection to her patroness ; and, 
though Josephine made her a companion and a 
confidante, she gradually passed, even in these 
early years, into the position of a maid of honor, 
and clung devotedly to her mistress through all 
the changes of subsequent life. Josephine, at 
this time secluded from all companionship with 
young ladies of her own rank and age, made 
this humble but active-minded and intelligent 
girl her bosom companion. They rambled to- 
gether, the youthful mistress and her maid, in 
perfect harmony. From Josephine's more high- 



20 Josephine. [A.D. 1770. 

Popularity of Josephine. Childhood enjoymenta. 

ly-cultivated mind the lowly-born child derived 
intellectual stimulus, and thus each day became 
a more worthy and congenial associate. As 
years passed on, and Josephine ascended into 
higher regions of splendor, her humble attend- 
ant gradually retired into more obscure posi- 
tions, though she was ever regarded by her true- 
hearted mistress with great kindness. 

Josephine was a universal favorite with all 
the little negro girls of the plantation. They 
looked up to her as to a protectress whom they 
loved, and to whom they owed entire homage. 
She would frequently collect a group of them 
under the shade of the luxuriant trees of that 
tropical island, and teach them the dances which 
she had learned, and also join with them as a 
partner. She loved to assemble them around 
her, and listen to those simple negro melodies 
which penetrate every heart which can feel the 
power of music. Again, all their voices, in sweet 
harmony, blended with hers as she taught them 
the more scientific songs of Europe. She would 
listen with unaffected interest to their tales of 
sorrow, and weep with them. Often she inter- 
posed in their behalf that their tasks might be 
lightened, or that a play-day might be allowed 
them. Thus she was as much beloved and ad- 



A.D. 1770.] Life in Martinique. 21 

Characteristic traits. Tb.s fortune-teller. 

mired in the cabin of the poor negro as she was 
in her uncle's parlor, where intelligence and re- 
finement were assembled. This same charac- 
ter she displayed through the whole of her ca- 
reer. Josephine upon the plantation and Jo- 
sephine upon the throne — Josephine surrounded 
by the sable maidens of Martinique, and Jo- 
sephine moving in queenly splendor in the pal- 
aces of Versailles, with all the courtiers of Eu- 
rope revolving around her, displayed the same 
traits of character, and by her unaffected kind- 
ness won the hearts alike of the lowly and of 
the exalted. 

About this time an occurrence took place 
which has attracted far more attention than 
it deserves. Josephine was one day walking 
under the shade of the trees of the plantation, 
when she saw a number of negro children 
gathered around an aged and withered negress, 
who had great reputation among the slaves as 
^a fortune-teller. Curiosity induced Josephine 
to draw near the group to hear what the sorcer- 
ess had to say. The old sibyl, with the cunning 
which is characteristic of her craft, as soon as 
she saw Josephine approach, whom she knew 
perfectly, assumed an air of great agitation, 
and, seizing her hand violently, gazed with most 



22 Josephine. [A.D. 1772. 

Predictions of the sibyl. Credulity. 

earnest attention upon the lines traced upon the 
palm. The little negresses were perfectly awe- 
stricken by this oracular display. Josephine, 
however, was only amused, and smiling, said, 

" So you discover something very extraordi- 
nary in my destiny ?" 

" Yes !" replied the negress, with an air of 
great solemnity. 

"Is happiness or misfortune to be my lot?" 
Josephine inquired. 

The negress again gazed upon her hand, and 
then replied, "Misfortune;" but, after a mo- 
ment's pause, she added, " and happiness too." 

" You must be careful, my good woman," 
Josephine rejoined, "not to commit yourself. 
Your predictions are not very intelligible." 

The negress, raising her eyes with an expres- 
sion of deep mystery to heaven, rejoined, "I 
am not permitted to render my revelations more 
clear." 

In every human heart there is a vein of cre- 
dulity. The pretended prophetess had now suc- 
ceeded in fairly arousing the curiosity of Jose- 
phine, who eagerly inquired, "What do you 
read respecting me in futurity ? Tell me ex- 
actly." 

Again the negress, assuming an air of pro- 



A.D. 1772.] Life in Martinique. 25 

More predictions. Their fulfillment. 

found solemnity, said, ''You will not believe 
me if I reveal to you your strange destiny." 

" Yes, indeed, I assure you that I will," Jo- 
sephine thoughtlessly replied. " Come, good 
mother, do tell me what I have to hope and 
what to fear." 

^ "On your own head be it, then. Listen. 
You will soon be married. That union will not 
be happy. You will become a widow, and then 
you will be Queen of France. Some happy 
years will be yours, but afterward you will die 
in a hospital, amid civil commotions." 

The old woman then hurried away. Jose- 
phine talked a few moments with the young ne- 
groes upon the folly of this pretended fortune- 
telling, and leaving them, the affair passed from 
her mind. In subsequent years, when toiling 
through the vicissitudes of her most eventful 
life, she recalled the singular coincidence be- 
tween her destiny and the prediction, and 
seemed to consider that the negress, with pro- 
phetic vision, had traced out her wonderful ca- 
reer. 

But what is there so extraordinary in this 
narrative? What maiden ever consulted a 
fortune-teller without receiving the agreeable 
announcement that she was to wed beauty, and 



26 Josephine. [A.D. 1772. 

Explanations of the predictions. How fulfilled. 

wealth, and rank ? It was known universally, 
and it was a constant subject of plantation gos- 
sip, that the guardians of Josephine were con- 
templating a match for her with the son of a 
neighboring planter. The negroes did not think 
him half worthy of their adored and queenly Jo- 
sephine. They supposed, however, that the 
match was settled. The artful woman was 
therefore compelled to allow Josephine to marry 
at first the undistinguished son of the planter, 
with whom she could not be happy. She, how- 
ever, very considerately lets the unworthy hus- 
band in a short time die, and then Josephine 
becomes a queen. This is the old story, which 
has been repeated to half the maidens in Chris- 
tendom. It is not very surprising that in this 
one case it should have happened to prove true. 
But, unfortunately, our prophetess went a lit- 
tle farther, and predicted that Josephine would 
die in a hospital — ^implying poverty and aban- 
donment. This part of the prediction proved to 
be utterly untrue. Josephine, instead of dying 
in a hospital, died in the beautiful palace of Mal- 
* maison. Instead of dying in poverty, she was 
one of the richest ladies in Europe, receiving 
an income of some six hundred thousand dollars 
a year. The grounds around her palace were 



A.D.1772.] Life in Martinique. 27 

Falsity of the prediction. Contemplated match. 

embellished with all the attractions, and her 
apartments furnished with every luxury which 
opulence could provide. Instead of dying in 
friendlessness and neglect, the Emperor Alex- 
ander of Russia stood at her bedside ; the most 
illustrious kings and nobles of Europe crowded 
g her court and did her homage. And though 
she was separated from her husband, she still 
retained the title of Empress, and was the ob- 
ject of his most sincere affection and esteem. 

Thus this prediction, upon which so much 
stress has been laid, seems to vanish in the air. 
It surely is not a supernatural event that a 
young lady, who was told by an aged negress 
that she would be a queen, happened actually 
to become one. 

We have alluded to a contemplated match 
between Josephine and the son of a neighbor- 
ing planter. An English family, who had lost 
property and rank in the convulsions of those 
times, had sought a retreat in the island of Mar- 
tinique, and were cultivating an adjoining plan- 
tation. In this family there was a very pleas- 
ant lad, a son, of nearly the same age with Jo- 
sephine. The plantations being near to each 
other, they were often companions and play- 
mates. A strong attachment grew up between 



28 Josephine. [A.D. 1773. 

Attachment between Josephine and William. Their separation. 

them. The parents of William, and the uncle 
and aunt of Josephine, approved cordially of this 
attachment, and were desirous that these youth- 
ful hearts should be united, as soon as the parties 
should arrive at mature age. Josephine, in the 
ingenuous artlessness of her nature, disguised 
not in the least her strong affection for William. 
And his attachment to her was deep and endur- 
ing. The solitude of their lives peculiarly tend- 
ed to promote fervor of character. 

Matters were in this state, when the father of 
William received an intimation from England 
that, by returning to his own country, he might, 
perhaps, regain his lost estates. He immedi- 
ately prepared to leave the island with his fam- 
ily. The separation was a severe blow to these 
youthful lovers. They wept, and vowed eternal 
fidelity. 

It is not surprising that Josephine should 
have been in some degree superstitious. The 
peculiarity of her life upon the plantation — her 
constant converse with the negroes, whose minds 
were imbued with all the superstitious notions 
which they had brought from Africa, united 
with those which they had found upon the isl- 
and, tended to foster those feelings. Rousseau, 
the most popular and universally-read French 



A.D. 1774.] Life in Martinique. 29 

Rosseau throwing stones. Josephine's superstition. 



writer of that day, in his celebrated "Confes- 
sions," records with perfect composure that he 
was one day sitting in a grove, meditating 
whether his soul would probably be saved or 
lost. He felt that the question was of the ut- 
most importance. How could he escape from 
the uncertainty ! A supernatural voice seemed 
to suggest an appeal to a singular kind of au- 
gury. " I will," said he, " throw this stone at 
that tree. If I hit the tree, it shall be a sign 
that my soul is to be saved. If I miss it, it 
shall indicate that I am to be lost." He select- 
ed a large tree, took the precaution of getting 
very near to it, and threw his stone plump 
against the trunk. " After that," says the 
philosopher, "I never again had a doubt re- 
specting my salvation." 

Josephine resorted to the same kind of au- 
gury to ascertain if William, who had become 
a student in the University at Oxford, still re- 
mained faithful to her. She not unfrequently 
attempted to beguile a weary hour in throwing 
pebbles at the trees, that she might divine 
whether William were then thinking of her. 
Months, however, passed away, and she re- 
ceived no tidings from him. Though she had 
often written, her letters remained unanswered. 



30 Josephine. [A.D. 1775. 

Deception of friends. Mutual fidelity. 

Her feelings were the more deeply wounded, 
since there were other friends upon the island 
with whom he kept up a correspondence ; but 
Josephine never received even a message through 
them. 

One day, as she was pensively rambling in a 
grove, where she had often walked with her ab- 
sent lover, she found carved upon a tree the 
names of William and Josephine. She knew 
well by whose hand they had been cut, and, en- 
tirely overcome with emotion, she sat down and 
wept bitterly. With the point of a knife, and 
with a trembling hand, she inscribed in the bark 
these words, peculiarly characteristic of her 
depth of feeling, and of the gentleness of her 
spirit: " Unhappy William ! thou hast forgot- 
ten me I" 

William, however, had not forgotten her. 
Again and again he had written in terms of 
the most ardent affection. But the friends of 
Josephine, meeting with an opportunity for a 
match for her which they deemed far more ad- 
vantageous, had destroyed these communica- 
tions, and also had prevented any of her letters 
from reaching the hand of William. Thus each, 
while cherishing the truest affection, deemed the 
other faithless. 



A.D. 1775.] Marriage of Josephine. 31 

Alexander de Beauharnais. His character. 



J 



Chapter II. 
The Marriage of Josephine. 

OSEPHINE was about fourteen years of 
age when she was separated from William. 
A year passed away, during which she received 
not a line from her absent friend. About this 
time a gentleman from France visited her uncle 
upon business of great importance. Viscount 
Alexander de Beauharnais was a fashionable 
and gallant young man, about thirty years of 
age, possessing much conversational ease and 
grace of manner, and accustomed to the most 
polished society of the French metropolis. He 
held a commission in the army, and had already 
signalized himself by several acts of bravery. 
His sympathies had been strongly aroused by 
the struggle of the American colonists with the 
mother country, and he had already aided the 
colonists both with his sword and his purse. 

Several large and valuable estates in Mar- 
tinique, adjoining the plantation of M. Renau- 
din, had fallen by inheritance to this young offi- 
cer and his brother, the Marquis of Beauhar- 



32 Josephine. [A.D. 1775. 



A. new suitor. Motives for the marriage. 

nais. He visited Martinique to secure the proof 
of his title to these estates. > M. Renaudin held 
some of these plantations on lease. In the 
transaction of this business, Beauharnais spent 
much time at the mansion of M. Renaudin. 
He, of course, saw much of the beautiful Jo- 
sephine, and was fascinated with her grace, and 
her mental and physical loveliness. 

The uncle and aunt of Josephine were delight- 
ed to perceive the interest which their niece had 
awakened in the bosom of the interesting stran- 
ger. His graceful figure, his accomplished per- 
son, his military celebrity, his social rank, and 
his large fortune, all conspired to dazzle their 
eyes, and to lead them to do every thing in their 
power to promote a match apparently so eligi- 
ble. The ambition of M. Renaudin was moved 
at the thought of conferring upon his niece, the 
prospective heiress of his own fortune, an estate 
so magnificent as the united inheritance. Jose- 
phine, however, had not yet forgotten William, 
and, though interested in her uncle's guest, for 
some time allowed no emotion of love to flow out 
toward him. 

One morning Josephine was sitting in the 
library in pensive musings, when her uncle came 
into the room to open to her the subject of her 



A.D. 1775.] Marriage of Josephine. 33 

ITie announcement Feelings of Josephine. 

contemplated marriage with M. Beauharnais. 
Josephine was thunderstruck at the communi- 
cation, for, according to the invariable custom 
of the times, she knew that she could have but 
little voice in the choice of a partner for life. 
For a short time she listened in silence to his 
proposals, and then said, with tears in her eyes, 

" Dear uncle, I implore you to remember that 
my affections are fixed upon William. I have 
been solemnly promised to him." 

" That is utterly impossible, my child," her 
uncle replied. ''Circumstances are changed. 
All our hopes are centered in you. You must 
obey our wishes." 

" And why," said she, " have you changed 
your intentions in reference to William ?" 

Her uncle replied : " You will receive by in- 
heritance all my estate. M. Beauharnais pos- 
sesses the rich estates adjoining. Your union 
unites the property. M. Beauharnais is ev- 
ery thing which can be desired in a husband. 
Besides, William appears to have forgotten 
you." 

To this last remark Josephine could make 

no reply. She looked sadly upon the floor and 

was silent. It is said that her uncle had then 

in his possession several letters which William 

C 



34 Josephine. [A.D. 1775. 

Zeal of M. Beauharnais. The engagement. 

had written her, replete with the most earnest 
spirit of constancy and affection. 

Josephine, but fifteen years of age, could not, 
under these circumstances, resist the influences 
now brought to bear upon her. M. Beauhar- 
nais was a gentleman of fascinating accomplish- 
ments. The reluctance of Josephine to become 
his bride but stimulated his zeal to obtain her. 
In the seclusion of the plantation, and far re- 
moved from other society, she was necessarily 
with him nearly at all hours. They read to- 
gether, rode on horseback side by side, rambled 
in the groves in pleasant companionship. They 
floated by moonlight upon the water, breathing 
the balmy air of that delicious clime, and unit- 
ing their voices in song, the measure being 
timed with the dipping of the oars by the ne- 
groes. The friends of Josephine were importu- 
nate for the match. At last, reluctantly she 
gave her consent. Having done this, she al- 
lowed her affections, unrestrained, to repose 
upon her betrothed. Though her heart still 
clung to William, she thought that he had found 
other friends in England, in whose pleasant com- 
panionship he had lost all remembrance of the 
island maiden who had won his early love. 
Alexander Beauharnais, soon after his en- 



A.D. 1775.] Marriage of Josephine. o'5 

Departure from Martinique. Parting scenes, 

gagement to Josephine, embarked for France. 
Arrangements had been made for Josephine, in 
the course of a few months, to follow him, upon 
a visit to a relative in Paris, and there the nup- 
tials were to be consummated. Josephine was 
now fifteen years of age. She was attached 
to Beauharnais, but not with that fervor of feel- 
ing which had previously agitated her heart. 
She often thought of William and spoke of him, 
and at times had misgivings lest there might 
be some explanation of his silence. But months 
had passed on, and she had received no letter or 
message from him. 

At length the hour for her departure from the 
island arrived. With tearful eyes and a sad- 
dened heart she left the land of her birth, and 
the scenes endeared to her by all the recollec- 
tions of childhood. Groups of negroes, from 
the tottering infant to the aged man of gray 
hairs, surrounded her with weeping and loud 
lamentation. Josephine hastened on board, the 
ship got under way, and soon the island of 
Martinique disappeared beneath the watery hor- 
izon. Josephine sat upon the deck in perfect 
silence, watching the dim outline of her beloved 
home till it was lost to sight. Her young heart 
was full of anxiety, of tenderness, and of regrets. 



36 Josephine. [A.D. 1775. 

Josephine's arrival in France. Her interview with William- 

Little, however, could she imagine the career 
of strange vicissitudes upon which she was 
about to enter. 

The voyage was long and tempestuous. 
Storms pursued them all the way. At one 
time the ship was dismasted and came near 
foundering. At length the welcome cry of 
^*' Land" was heard, and Josephine, an unknown 
orphan child of fifteen, placed her feet upon the 
shores of France, that country over which she 
was soon to reign the most renowned empress. 
She hastened to Fontainebleau, and was there 
met by Alexander Beauharnais. He received 
her with great fondness, and was assiduous in 
bestowing upon her the most flattering atten- 
tions. But Josephine had hardly arrived at Fon- 
tainebleau before she heard that William and 
his father were also residing at that place. Her 
whole frame trembled like an aspen leaf, and 
her heart sunk within her as she received the 
intelligence. All her long-cherished affection 
for the companion of her childhood was revived, 
and still she knew not but that William was 
faithless. He, however, immediately called, 
with his father, to see her. The interview was 
most embarrassing, foi* each loved the other in- 
tensely, and each had reason to believe that the 



A.D. 1775.] Marriage of Josephine. 37 

Explanation of William. Distress of Josephine. 

other had proved untrue. The next day Will- 
iam called alone ; Josephine, the betrothed bride 
of Beauharnais, prudently declined seeing him. 
He then wrote her a letter, which he bribed a 
servant to place in her hands, full of protesta- 
tions of love, stating how he had written to her, 
and passionately inquiring why she turned so 
coldly from him. 

Josephine read the letter with a bursting 
heart. She now saw how she had been de- 
ceived. She now was convinced that William 
had proved faithful to her, notwithstanding he 
had so much reason to believe that she had been 
untrue to him. But what could she do ? She 
was but fifteen years of age. She was sur- 
rounded only by those who were determined 
that she should marry Alexander Beauharnais. 
She was told that the friends of William had 
decided unalterably that he should marry an 
English heiress, and that the fortunes of his 
father's family were dependent upon that alli- 
ance. The servant who had been the bearer 
of William's epistle was dismissed, and the 
other servants were commanded not to allow 
him to enter the house. 

The agitation of Josephine's heart was such 
that for some time she was unable to leave her 



38 Josephine. [A.D. 1775. 

Josephine retires to a convent. She marries the Viscount Beauharnais. 

bed. She entreated her friends to allow her for 
a few months to retire to a convent, that she 
might, in solitary thought and prayer, regain 
composure. Her friends consented to this ar- 
rangement, and she took refuge in the convent 
at Panthemont. Here she spent a few months 
in inexpressible gloom. William made many 
unavailing efforts to obtain an interview, and 
at last, in despair, reluctantly received the 
wealthy bride, through whom he secured an 
immense inheritance, and with whom he passed 
an unloving life. 

The Viscount Beauharnais often called to see 
her, and was permitted to converse with her at 
the gate of her window. In the simplicity of 
her heart, she told her friends at the convent 
of her attachment for William ; how they had 
been reared together, and how they had loved 
from childhood. She felt that it was a cruel 
fate which separated them, but a fate before 
which each must inevitably bow. At last she 
calmly made up her mind to comply with the 
wishes of her friends, and to surrender herself 
to the Viscount Beauharnais. There was much 
in the person and character of Beauharnais to 
render him very attractive, and she soon be- 
came sincerely, though never passionately, at- 
tached to him. 



A.D. 1777.] Marriage of Josephine. 39 

Fashionable life. Josephine is introduced at court. 

Josephine was sixteen years of age when she 
was married. Her social position was in the 
midst of the most expensive and fashionable so- 
ciety of Paris. She was immediately involved 
in all the excitements of parties, and balls, 
and gorgeous entertainments. Her beauty, her 
grace, her amiability, and her peculiarly musi- 
cal voice, which fell like a charm upon every ear, 
excited great admiration and not a little envy. 
It was a dangerous scene into which to intro- 
duce the artless and inexperienced Creole girl, 
and she was not a little dazzled by the splen- 
dor with which she was surrounded. Every 
thing that could minister to convenience, or 
that could gratify taste, was lavished profusely 
around her. For a time she was bewildered by 
the novelty of her situation. But soon she be- 
came weary of the heartless pageantry of fash- 
ionable life, and sighed for the tranquil enjoy- 
ments of her island home. 

Her husband, proud of her beauty and ac- 
complishments, introduced her at court. Maria 
Antoinette, who had then just ascended the 
throne, and was in the brilliance of her youth, 
and beauty, and early popularity, was charmed 
with the West Indian bride, and received hrr 
without the formality of a public presentation. 



40 Josephine. [A.D. 177S. 

Maria Antoinette and Josephine. French philosophy. 

When these two young brides met in the regal 
palace of Versailles — the one a daughter of Ma- 
ria Theresa and a descendant of the Csesars, 
who had come from the court of Austria to be 
not only the queen, but the brightest ornament 
of the court of France — the other the child of 
a planter, born upon an obscure island, reared 
in the midst of negresses, as almost her only 
companions — little did they imagine that Maria 
Antoinette was to go down, down, down to the 
lowest state of ignominy and wo, while Jose- 
phine was to ascend to more and more exalted 
stations, until she should sit upon a throne more 
glorious than the Csesars ever knew. 

French philosophy had at this time under- 
mined the religion of Jesus Christ. All that is 
sacred in the domestic relations was withering 
beneath the blight of infidelity. Beauharnais, 
a man of fashion and of the world, had imbibed, 
to the full, the sentiments which disgraced the 
age. Marriage was deemed a partnership, to 
be formed or dissolved at pleasure. Fidelity to 
the nuptial tie was the jest of philosophers and 
witlings. Josephine had soon the mortification 
of seeing a proud, beautiful, and artful woman 
taking her place, and openly and triumphantly 
claiming the attentions and the affections of her 



A.D. 1780.] Marriage of Josephine. 41 

Birth of a daughter. Infidelity of Beauharnaia. 

husband. This woman, high in rank, loved to 
torture her poor victim. '' Your dear Alexan- 
der," she said to Josephine, " daily lavishes upon 
others the tribute of attachment v^hich you think 
he reserves solely for you." She could not bear 
to see the beautiful and virtuous Josephine 
happy, as the honored wife of her guilty lover, 
and she resolved, if possible, to sow the seeds 
of jealousy so effectually between them as to 
secure a separation. 

In the year 1780 Josephine gave birth to her 
daughter Hortense. This event seemed for a 
time to draw back the wandering aifections of 
Beauharnais. He was really proud of his wife. 
He admired her beauty and her grace. He 
doted upon his infant daughter. But he was 
an infidel. He recognized no law of God, com- 
manding purity of heart and life, and he con- 
tended that Josephine had no right to complain, 
as long as he treated her kindly, if he did in- 
dulge in the waywardness of passion. 

The path of Josephine was now, indeed, 
shrouded in gloom, and each day seemed to 
grow darker and darker. Hortense became her 
idol and her only comfort. Her husband lav- 
ished upon her those luxuries which his wealth 
enabled him to grant. He was kind to her in 



42 Josephine. [A.D. 1780. 

Birth of a son. An arch deceiver. 

words and in all the ordinary courtesies of in- 
tercourse. But Josephine's heart was well-nigh 
broken. A few years of conflict passed slowly 
. away, when she gave birth, in the year 1783, 
to her son Eugene. In the society of her chil- 
dren the unhappy mother found now her only 
solace. 

"While the Viscount Beauharnais was ready 
to defend his own conduct, he was by no means 
willing that his wife should govern herself by 
the same principles of fashionable philosophy. 
The code infidel is got up for the especial ben- 
efit of dissolute men ; their wives must be gov- 
erned by another code. The artful woman, 
who was the prime agent in these difficulties, 
affected great sympathy with Josephine in her 
sorrows, protested her own entire innocence, 
but assured her that M. Beauharnais was an in- 
grate, entirely unworthy of her affections. She 
deceived Josephine, hoarded up the confidence 
of her stricken heart, and conversed with her 
about William^ the memory of whose faithful 
love now came with new freshness to the dis- 
consolate wife. 

Josephine, lured by her, wrote a letter to her 
friends in Martinique, in which she imprudently 
said, "Were it not for my children, I should, 



A.D. 1783.] Marriage of Josephine. 43 

Josephine betrayed. Application for a divorce. 

without a pang, renounce France forever. My 
duty requires me to forget William ; and yet, 
if we had been united together, I should not to- 
day have been troubling you with my griefs." 
The woman who instigated her to write this 
letter was infamous enough to obtain it by 
stealth and show it to Beauharnais. His jeal- 
ousy and indignation were immediately aroused 
to the highest pitch. He was led by this ma- 
licious deceiver to believe that Josephine had 
obtained secret interviews with William, and 
the notoriously unfaithful husband was exas- 
perated to the highest degree at the very sus- 
picion of the want of fidelity in his wife. He 
reproached her in language of the utmost se- 
verity, took Eugene from her, and resolved to 
endeaVor, by legal process, to obtain an entire 
divorce. She implored him, for the sake of her 
children, not to proclaim their difficulties to the 
world. He, however, reckless of consequences, 
made application to the courts for the annul- 
ment of the matrimonial bond. Josephine was 
now compelled to defend her own character. 
She again retired with Hortense to the convent, 
and there, through dreary months of solitude, 
and silence, and dejection, awaited the result of 
the trial upon which her reputation as a vir- 



44 Josephine. [A.D. 1784. 

Josephine triumphant. Visit to Versailles. 

tuous woman was staked. The decree of the 
court was triumphantly in her favor, and Jo- 
sephine returned to her friends to receive their 
congratulations, but impressed with the convic- 
tion that earth had no longer a joy in store for 
her. Her friends did all in their power to cheer 
her desponding spirit ; but the wound she had 
received was too deep to be speedily healed. 
One day her friends, to divert her mind from 
brooding over irreparable sorrows, took her, al- 
most by violence, to Versailles. They passed 
over the enchanting grounds, and through the 
gorgeously-furnished apartments of the Great 
and Little Trianon, the favorite haunts of Ma- 
ria Antoinette. Here the beautiful Queen of 
France was accustomed to lay aside the pa- 
geantry of royalty, and to enjoy, without re- 
straint, the society of those who were dear to 
her. Days of darkness and trouble had already 
begun to darken around her path. As Jose- 
phine was looking at some of the works of art, 
she was greatly surprised at the entrance of the 
queen, surrounded by several ladies of her court. 
Maria Antoinette immediately recognized Jo- 
sephine, and with that air of affability and kind- 
ness which ever characterized her conduct, she 
approached her, and, with one of her winning 



A. D. 1784.] Marriage of Josephine. 45 

Interview with Maria Antoinette. Kindness of the queen. 

smiles, said, " Madame Beauharnais, I am very 
happy to see you at the two Trianons. You 
well know how to appreciate their beauties. I 
should be much pleased to learn what objects 
you consider most interesting. I shall always 
receive you with pleasure." 

These words from the queen were an un- 
speakable solace to Josephine. Her afflicted 
heart needed the consolation. The queen was 
acquainted with her trials, and thus nobly as- 
sured her of her sympathy and her confidence. 
In a few days Maria Antoinette invited Jose- 
phine to a private interview. She addressed 
her in words of the utmost kindness, promised 
to watch over the interests of her son, and at 
the same time, as a mark of her especial regard, 
she took from her neck an antique ornament of 
precious stones, and passed it over the neck of 
Josephine. The king also himself came in at 
the interview, for his heart had been softened 
by sorrow, and addressed words of consolation 
to the injured and discarded wife. 

Josephine now received letters from Marti- 
nique earnestly entreating her to return, with 
her children, to the home of her childhood. 
World-weary, she immediately resolved to ac- 
cept the invitation. But the thought of cross- 



46 Josephine. [A.D. 1784. 

Josephine embarks for Martinique. Hours of despondency. 

ing the wide ocean, and leaving her son Eugene 
behind, was a severe pang to a mother's heart. 
Eugene had been taken from her and sent to a 
boarding-school. Josephine felt so deeply the 
pang of separation from her beloved child, that 
she obtained an interview with M. Beauharnais, 
and implored him to allow her to take Eugene 
with her. He gave a cold and positive refusal. 
A few days after this, Josephine, cruelly sep- 
arated from her husband and bereaved of her 
son, embarked with Hortense for Martinique. 
She strove to maintain that aspect of cheerful- 
ness and of dignity which an injured but inno- 
cent woman is entitled to exhibit. When dark 
hours of despondency overshadowed her, she 
tried to console herself with the beautiful thought 
of Plautus: " If we support adversity with cour- 
age, we shall have a keener relish for returning 
prosperity." It does not appear that she had 
any refuge in the consolations of religion. She 
had a vague and general idea of the goodness 
of a superintending Providence, but she was 
apparently a stranger to those warm and glow- 
ing revelations of Christianity which introduce 
us to a sympathizing Savior, a guiding and con- 
soling Spirit, a loving and forgiving Father. 
Could she then, by faith, have reposed her aoh- 



A..D. 1785.] Marriage of Josephine. 47 

Josephine arrives at Martinique. Her kind reception. 

ing head upon the bosom of her heavenly Fa- 
ther, she might have found a solace such as 
nothing else could confer. But at this time 
nearly every mind in France was more or less 
darkened by the glooms of infidelity. 

The winds soon drove her frail bark across 
the Atlantic, and Josephine, pale and sorrow- 
stricken, was clasped in the arms and folded to 
the hearts of those who truly loved her. The 
affectionate negroes gathered around her, with 
loud demonstrations of their sympathy and their 
joy in again meeting their mistress. Here, 
amid the quiet scenes endeared to her by the 
recollections of childhood, she found a tempo- 
rary respite from those storms by which she 
had been so severely tossed upon life's wild and 
tempestuous ocean. 



48 Josephine, [A.D. 1786. 

Sadness of Josephine. Dissipation of Beauhamais. 



Chapter III. 

Arrest of M. Beauharnais and Jose- 
phine. 

JOSEPHINE remainea in Martinique three 
years. She passed her time in tranquil sad- 
ness, engaged in reading, in educating Hortense, 
and in unwearied acts of kindness to those around 
her. Like all noble minds, she had a grfeat fond- 
ness for the beauties of nature. The luxuriant 
groves of the tropics, the serene skids which 
overarched her head, the gentle zephyrs which 
breathed through orange groves, all were con- 
genial with her pensive spirit. The thought 
of Eugene, her beautiful boy, so far from her, 
preyed deeply upon her heart. Often she re- 
tired alone to some of those lonely walks which 
she loved so well, and wept over her alienated 
husband and her lost child. 

M. Beauharnais surrendered himself for a 
time, without restraint, to every indulgence. 
He tried, in the society of sin and shame, to 
forget his wife and his absent daughter. He, 
however, soon found that no friend can take the 
place of a virtuous and an aifectionate wife. 



A.D. 1786.] Arrest of Beauharnais. 49 

Repentance of Beauharnais. Josephine returns to France. 

The memory of Josephine's gentleness, and ten- 
derness, and love came flooding back upon his 
heart. He became fully convinced of his in- 
justice to her, and earnestly desired to have 
her restored again to him and to his home. He 
sent communications to Josephine, expressive 
of his deep regret for the past, promising amend- 
ment for the future, assuring her of his high 
appreciation of her elevated and honorable char- 
acter, and imploring her to return with Hor- 
tense, thus to reunite the divided and sorrow- 
stricken household. It was indeed a gratifica- 
tion to Josephine to receive from her husband 
the acknowledgment that she had never ceased 
to deserve his confidence. The thought of again 
pressing Eugene to her bosom filled a mother's 
heart with rapture. Still, the griefs which, had 
weighed upon her were so heavy, that she con- 
fessed to her friends that, were it not for the 
love which she bore Eugene, she would greatly 
prefer to spend the remnant of her days upon 
her favorite island. Her friends did every thing 
in their power to dissuade her from leaving 
Martinique. But a mother's undying love tri- 
umphed, and again she embarked for France. 

In subsequent years, when surrounded by 
all the splendors of royalty, she related to some 
D 



50 Josephine. [A.D.1786. 

The jewels. Anecdote of the old shoes, 

of the ladies of her court, with that unaffected 
simplicity which ever marked her character, 
the following incident, which occurred daring 
this voyage. The ladies were admiring some 
brilliant jewels which were spread out before 
them. Josephine said to them, " My young 
friends, believe me, splendor does not consti- 
tute happiness. I at one time received greater 
i enjoyment from the gift of a pair of old shoes 
than all these diamonds have ever afforded me." 
The curiosity of her auditors was, of course, 
greatly excited, and they entreated her to ex- 
plain her meaning. 

"Yes, young ladies," Josephine continued, 
" of all the presents I ever received, the one 
which gave me the greatest pleasure was a pair 
of old shoes, and those, too, of coarse leather. 
When I last returned to France from Marti- 
nique, having separated from my first husband, 
I was far from rich. The passage-money ex- 
hausted my resources, and it was not without 
difficulty that I obtained the indispensable re- 
quisites for our voyage. Hortense, obliging and 
lively, performing with much agihty the dances 
of the negroes, and singing their songs with 
surprising correctness, greatly amused the sail- 
ors, who, from being her constant play-fellows, 



A.D, 1786.] Arrest of Beauharnais. 51 

Hortense without shoes. The kind old sailor. 

had become her favorite society. An old sailor 
became particularly attached to the child, and 
she doted upon the old man. What with run- 
ning, leaping, and walking, my daughter's slight 
shoes were fairly worn out. Knowing that she 
had not another pair, and fearing 1 would for- 
bid her going upon deck, should this defect in 
her attire be discovered, Hortense carefully con- 
cealed the disaster. One day I experienced the 
distress of seeing her return from the deck leav- 
ing every foot-mark in blood. When examin- 
ing how matters stood, I found her shoes lit- 
erally in tatters, and her feet dreadfully torn by 
a nail. We were as yet not more than half 
way across the ocean, and it seemed impossible 
to procure another pair of shoes. I felt quite 
overcome at the idea of the sorrow my poor Hor- 
tense would suffer, as also at the danger to which 
her health might be exposed by confinement in 
my miserable little cabin. At this moment our 
good friend, the old sailor, entered and inquired 
the cause of our distress. Hortense, sobbing 
all the while, eagerly informed him that she 
could no more go upon deck, for her shoes were 
worn out, and mamma had no others to give 
her. 'Nonsense,' said the worthy seaman, 'is 
that all ? I have an old pair somewhere in my 



52 Josephine. [A.D.1786. 

The shoes made. Eventful life of Hortense. 

chest ; I will go and seek thein. Yoa, madam, 
can cut them to shape, and I will splice them 
up as well as need be.' Without waiting for a 
reply, away hastened the kind sailor in search 
of his old shoes ; these he soon after brought to 
us with a triumphant air, and they were re- 
ceived by Hortense with demonstrations of the 
most lively joy. We set to work with all zeal, 
and before the day closed my daughter could 
resume her delightful duties of supplying their 
evening's diversion to the crew. I again repeat, 
never was present received with greater thank- 
fulness. It has since often been matter of self- 
reproach that I did not particularly inquire into 
the name and history of our benefactor. It 
would have been gratifying for me to have done 
something for him when afterward means were 
in my power." 

Poor Hortense ! most wonderful were the vi- 
cissitudes of her checkered and joyless life. We 
here meet her, almost an infant, in poverty and 
obscurity. The mother and child arrive in Par- 
is on the morning of that Reign of Terror, the 
story of which has made the ear of humanity 
to tingle. Hortense is deprived of both her par- 
ents, and is left in friendlessness and beggary 
in the streets of Paris. A charitable neighbor 



A.D. 1786.] Arrest of Beauiiarnais. 58 



Marriage of Hortense. Queen of Holland. 

cherished and fed her. Her mother is liberated, 
and married to Napoleon ; and Hortense, as 
daughter of the emperor, is surrounded with 
dazzling splendor, such as earth has seldom wit- 
nessed. We now meet Hortense, radiant in 
youthful beauty, one of the most admired and 
courted in the midst of the glittering throng, 
which, like a fairy vision, dazzles all eyes in 
the gorgeous apartments of Versailles and St. 
Cloud. Her person is adorned with the most 
costly fabrics and the most brilliant gems which 
Europe can afford. The nobles and princes of 
the proudest courts vie with each other for the 
honor of her hand. She is led to her sumptu- 
ous bridals by Louis Bonaparte, brother of the 
emperor ; becomes the spouse of a king, and 
takes her seat upon the throne of Holland. But 
in the midst of all this external splendor she is 
wretched at heart. Not one congenial feeling 
unites her with the companion to whom she is 
bound. Louis, weary of regal pomp and con- 
straint, abdicates the throne, and Hortense be- 
comes unendurably weary of her pensive and 
unambitious spouse. They agree to separate ; 
each to journey along, unattended by the other, 
the remainder of life's pilgrimage. Hortense 
seeks a joyless refuge in a secluded castle, in 



54 Josephine. [A.D.1786. 

Death of Hortense. Meeting of Josephine and Beauharnais. 

one of the most retired valleys of Switzerland. 
The tornado of counter-revolution sweeps over 
Europe, and all her exalted friends and tower- 
ing hopes are prostrated in the dust. Linger- 
ing years of disappointment and sadness pass 
over her, and old age, with its infirmities, places 
her upon a dying bed. One only child, Louis 
Napoleon, since President of the French Repub- 
lic, the victim of corroding ambition and cease- 
lessly-gnawing discontent, stands at her bed- 
side to close her eyes, and to follow her, a soli- 
tary and lonely mourner, to the grave. The 
dream of life has passed. The shadow has van- 
ished away. Who can fathom the mystery of 
the creation of such a drama ? 

Josephine arrived in France. She was re- 
ceived most cordially by her husband. Sorrow- 
ful experience had taught him the value of a 
home, and the worth of a pure and a sanctified 
love. Josephine again folded her idolized Eu- 
gene in her arms, and the anguish of past years 
was forgotten in the blissful enjoyments of a re- 
united family. These bright and happy days 
were, however, soon again clouded. The French 
Revolution was now in full career. The king 
and queen were in prison. All law was pros- 
trate. M. Beauharnais, at the commencement 



A.D. 1787.] Arrest of Beauharnais. 55 

Influential character of Beauharnais. Jacobins and Girondists. 

of the Revolution, had most cordially espoused 
the cause of popular liberty. He stood by the 
side of La Fayette a companion and a support- 
er. His commanding character gave him great 
influence. He was elected a deputy to the Con- 
stituent Assembly, and took an active part in 
its proceedings. Upon the dissolution of this 
Assembly, or States-General, as it was also 
called, as by vote none of its members were im- 
mediately re-eligible, he retired again to the 
army ; but when the second or Legislative As- 
sembly was dissolved and the National Conven- 
tion was formed, he was returned as a mem- 
ber, and at two successive sessions was elected 
its president. 

The people, having obtained an entire victory 
over monarchy and aristocracy, beheaded the 
king and queen, and drove the nobles from the 
realm. France was now divided into two great 
parties. ^The Jacobins were so called from an 
old cloister in which they at first held their 
meetings. All of the lowest, most vicious, and 
the reckless of the nation belonged to this party. 
They seemed disposed to overthrow all law, hu- 
man and divine. Marat, Danton, and Robes- 
pierre were the blood-stained leaders of this 
wild and furious faction. The Girondists, their 



56 Josephine. [A.D. 1789. 

The Jacobins triumphant. Fearful commotions, 

opponents, were so called from the department 
of the Gironde, from which most of the leaders 
of this party came. They wished for a repub- 
lic like that of the United States, where there 
should be the protection of life, and property, 
and liberty, with healthy laws sacredly enforced. 

The conflict between the two parties was long 
and terrible. The Jacobins gained the victory, 
and the Girondists were led to the guillotine. 
M. Beauharnais was an active member of the 
Girondist party, of which Madame Roland was 
the soul, and he perished with them. Many 
of the Girondists sought safety in concealment 
and retreat. M. Beauharnais, conscious of his 
political integrity, proudly refused to save his 
life by turning his back upon his foes. 

One morning Josephine was sitting in her 
parlor, in a state of great anxiety in reference 
to the fearful commotion of the times, when a 
servant announced that some one wished to 
speak to her. A young man of very gentle and 
prepossessing appearance was introduced, with 
a bag in his hand, in which were several pairs 
of shoes. 

"Citizen," said the man to Josephine, "I 
understand that you want socks of plum gray." 

Josephine looked up in surprise, hardly com- 



A. D. 1784.] Arrest of Beauharnais. 59 

The warning. Alarm of Josephine. 

prehending his meaning, when he approached 
nearer to her, and, in an under tone, whispered, 
" I have something to impart to you, madame." 

" Explain yourself," she eagerly replied, 
much alarmed ; "my servant is faithful." 

" Ah !" he exclaimed, " my life is at stake 
in this matter." 

'' Go, Victorine," said Josephine to her serv- 
ant, " and call my husband." 

As soon as they were alone, the young man 
said, '' There is not a moment to lose if you 
would save M. Beauharnais. The Revolution- 
ary Committee last night passed a resolution 
to have him arrested, and at this very moment 
the warrant is making out." 

" How know you this ?" she demanded, trem- 
bling violently. 

" I am one of the committee," was the reply, 
''and, being a shoemaker, I thought these shoes 
would afford me a reasonable pretext for adver- 
tising you, madame." 

At this moment M. Beauharnais entered the 
room, and Josephine, weeping, threw herself 
into his arms. "You see my husband," she 
said to the shoemaker. 

" I have the honor of knowing him," was the 
reply. 



60 Josephine. [A.D. 1786. 

Beauharnais proudly refuses to attempt an escape. 

M. Beauharnais wished to reward the young 
man on the spot for his magnanimous and per- 
ilous deed of kindness. The offer was respect- 
fully but decisively declined. To the earnest 
entreaties of Josephine and the young man that 
he should immediately secure his safety by his 
flight or concealment, he replied, 

" I will never flee ; with what can they charge 
me ? I love liberty. I have borne arms for the 
Revolution." 

" But you are a noble," the young man re- 
joined, " and that, in the eye of the Revolution- 
ists, is a crime — an unpardonable crime. And, 
moreover, they accuse you of having been a 
member of the Constitutional Assembly." 

*' That," said M. Beauharnais, '' is my most 
honorable title to glory. W^ would not be 
proud of having proclaimed the rights of the 
nation, the fall of despotism, and the reign of 
laws ?" 

*' What laws !" exclaimed Josephine. " It is 
in blood they are written." 

" Madame," exclaimed the philanthropic 
young Jacobin, with a tone of severity, ''when 
the tree of liberty is planted in an unfriendly 
soil, it must be watered with the blood of its 
Then, turning to M. Beauharnais, 






A.D.1786.] Arrest of Beauharnais. 61 

Entreaties of Josephine. Arrest of Beauharnais. 

he said, "Within an hour it will no longer be 
possible to escape. I wished to save you, be- 
cause I believe you innocent. Such was my 
duty to humanity. But if I am commanded to 
arrest you — pardon me — I shall do my duty ; 
and you will acknowledge the patriot." 

The young shoemaker withdrew, and Jose- 
phine in vain entreated her husband to attempt 
his escape. " Whither shall I flee ?" he an- 
swered. " Is there a vault, a garret, a hiding- 
place into which the eye of the tyrant Robes- 
pierre does not penetrate ? We must yield. If 
I am condemned, how can I escape ? If I am 
not condemned, I have nothing to fear." 

About two hours elapsed when three mem- 
bers of the Revolutionary Committee, accompa- 
nied by a band of armed men, broke into the 
house. The young shoemaker was one of this 
committee, and with firmness, but with much 
urbanity, he arrested M. Beauharnais. Jose- 
phine, as her husband was led to prison, was 
left in her desolated home. And she found 
herself indeed deserted and alone. No one 
could then manifest any sympathy with the 
proscribed without periling life. Josephine's 
friends, one by one, all abandoned her. The 
young shoemaker alone, who had arrested her 



62 Josephine. [A.D. 1790. 

Beneficence of Josephine. The children deceived. 

husband, continued secretly to call with words 
of sympathy. 

Josephine made great exertions to obtain the 
release of her husband, and was also unwearied 
in her benefactions to multitudes around her 
who, in those days of lawlessness and of an- 
guish, were deprived of property, of friends, and 
of home. The only solace she found in her own 
grief was in ministering to the consolation of 
others. Josephine, from the kindest of motives, 
but very injudiciously, deceived her children in 
reference to their father's arrest, and led them 
to suppose that he was absent from home in 
consequence of ill health. When at last she 
obtained permission to visit, with her children, 
her husband in prison, they detected the deceit. 
After returning from the prison after their first 
interview, Hortense remarked to her mother 
that she thought her father's apartment very 
small, and the patients very numerous. She 
appeared for a time very thoughtful, and then 
inquired of Eugene, with an anxious expression 
of countenance, 

" Do you believe that papa is ill ? If he is, it 
certainly is not the sickness which the doctors 
cure." 

"What do you mean, my dear child?" asked 



A.D. 1790.] Arrest of Josephine. 63 

Indiscretions. Arrest of Josephine. 

Josephine. " Can you suppose that papa and I 
would contrive between us to deceive you ?" 

" Pardon me, mamma, but I do think so." 

a Why, sister," exclaimed Eugene, " how 
can you say so ?" 

*' Good parents," she replied, '' are unques- 
tionably permitted to deceive their children 
when they wish to spare them uneasiness. Is 
it not so, mamma?" 

Josephine was not a little embarrassed by itiis 
detection, and was compelled to acknowledge 
that which it was no longer possible to conceal. 

In the interview which M. Beauharnais held 
with his wife and his children, he spoke with 
some freedom to his children of the injustice of 
his imprisonment. This sealed his doom. List- 
eners, who were placed in an adjoining room to 
note down his words, reported the conversation, 
and magnified it into a conspiracy for the over- 
throw of the republic. M. Beauharnais was 
immediately placed in close confinement. Jose- 
phine herself was arrested and plunged into pris- 
on, and even the terrified children were rigidly 
examined by a brutal committee, who, by prom- 
ises and by threats, did what they could to ex- 
tort from them some confession which would 
lead to the conviction of their parents. 



64 Josephine. [ A.D. 1790. 

Josephine takes leave of her sleeping children. A mother's tears. 

Josephine, the morning of her arrest, received 
an anonymous letter, warning her of her dan- 
ger. It was at an early hour, and her children 
were asleep in their beds. But how could she 
escape? Where could she go? Should she 
leave her children behind her — a mother aban- 
don her children ! Should she take them with 
her, and thus prevent the possibility of eluding 
arrest ? Would not her attempt at flight be 
construed into a confession of guilt, and thus 
compromise the safety of her husband ? While 
distracted with these thoughts, she heard a loud 
knocking and clamor at the outer door of the 
house. She understood too well the significance 
of those sounds. With a great effort to retain 
a tranquil spirit, she passed into the room where 
her children were sleeping. As she fixed her 
eyes upon them, so sweetly lost in slumber, and 
thought of the utter abandonment to which they 
were doomed, her heart throbbed with anguish, 
and tears, of such bitterness as are seldom shed 
upon earth, filled her eyes. She bent over her 
daughter, and imprinted a mother's farewell 
kiss upon her forehead. The affectionate child, 
though asleep, clasped her arms around her 
mother's neck, and, speaking the thoughts of 
the dream passing through her mind, said, 



A.D. 1793.] Arrest OF Josephine. 65 

Brutality of the soldiers. Josephine dragged to the Carmelites. 

'' Come to bed. Fear nothing. They shall 
not take you away this night. I have prayed 
to God for you." 

The tumult in the outer hall continually in- 
creasing, Josephine, fearful of awaking Hortense 
and Eugene, cast a last lingering look of love 
upon them, and, withdrawing from the cham- 
ber, closed the door and entered her parlor. 
There she found a band of armed men, headed 
by the brutal wretch who had so unfeelingly 
examined her children. The soldiers were hard- 
ened against every appeal of humanity, and per- 
formed their unfeeling office without any emo- 
tion, save that of hatred for one whom they 
deemed to be an aristocrat. They seized Jose- 
phine rudely, and took possession of all the 
property in the house in the name of the Re- 
public. They dragged their victim to the con- 
vent of the Carmelites, and she was immured 
in that prison, where, but a few months before, 
more than eight thousand had been massacred 
by the mob of Paris. Even the blackest an- 
nals of religious fanaticism can record no out- 
rages more horrible than those which rampant 
infidelity perpetrated in these days of its tem- 
porary triumphs. 

When Eugene and Hortense awoke, they 
E 



66 Josephine. [A.D. 1793. 

Forlorn condition of the children. They find a protector. 

found themselves indeed alone in the wide 
world. They were informed by a servant of 
the arrest and the imprisonment of their moth- 
er. The times had long been so troubled, and 
the children were so familiar with the recital 
of such scenes of violence, that they were pre- 
pared to meet these fearful perplexities with no 
little degree of discretion. After a few tears, 
they tried to summon resolution to act worthily 
of their father and mother. Hortense, with 
that energy of character which she manifested 
through her whole life, advised that they should 
go to the Luxembourg, where their father was 
confined, and demand admission to share his 
imprisonment. Eugene, with that caution 
which characterized him when one of the lead- 
ers in the army of Napoleon, and when viceroy 
of Italy, apprehensive lest thus they might in 
some way compromise the safety of their father, 
recalled to mind an aged great-aunt, who was 
residing in much retirement in the vicinity of 
Versailles, and suggested the propriety of seek- 
ing a refuge with her. An humble female friend 
conducted the children to Versailles, where they 
were most kindly received. 

When the gloom of the ensuing night dark- 
ened the city, M. Beauharnais in his cheerless 



AD. 1793.] Arrest OP Josephine. 67 

Gloomy forebodings of Beauharnais and Josephine. 

cell, and Josephine in her prison still stained 
with the blood of massacre, wept over the des- 
olation of their home and their hopes. They 
knew not the fate of their children, and their 
minds were oppressed with the most gloomy- 
forebodings. On the ensuing day, Josephine's 
heart was cheered with the tidings of their safe- 
ty. Such was the second terrific storm which 
Josephine encountered on life's dark waters. 



6S Josephine. [AD. 1794. 

Convent of the Carmelites. Quality of the prisoners. 



Chapter IV. 

Scenes in Prison. 

rilHE Convent of the Carmelites, in which 
-■- Josephine was imprisoned, had acquired a 
fearful celebrity during the Reign of Terror. 
It was a vast and gloomy pile, so capacious in 
its halls, its chapel, its cells, and its subterra- 
nean dungeons, that at one time nearly ten 
thousand prisoners were immured within its 
frowning walls. In every part of the building 
the floors were still deeply stained with the 
blood of the recent massacres. The infuriated 
men and women, intoxicated with rum and 
rage, who had broken into the prison, dragged 
multitudes of their victims, many of whom were 
priests, into the chapel, that they might, in de- 
rision of religion, poniard them before the altar. 
About three hundred thousand innocent victims 
of the Revolution now crowded the prisons of 
France. These unhappy captives, awaiting the 
hour of their execution, were not the ignorant, 
the debased, the degraded, but the noblest, the 
purest, the most refined of the citizens of the 



A.D.1794.] Scenes in Prison. 6^ 

Cheerfulness of Josephine. Reading the daily journal, ~ 

republic. Josephine was placed in the chapel 
of the convent, where she found one hundred 
and sixty men and women as the sharers of her 
captivity. 

The natural buoyancy of her disposition led 
her to take as cheerful a view as possible of the 
calamity in which the family was involved. 
Being confident that no serious charge could be 
brought against her husband, she clung to the 
hope that they both would soon be liberated, 
and that happy days were again to dawn upon 
her reunited household. She wrote cheering 
letters to her husband and to her children. Her 
smiling countenance and words of kindness an- 
imated with new courage the grief-stricken and 
the despairing who surrounded her. She im- 
mediately became a universal favorite with the 
inmates of the prison. Her instinctive tact en- 
abled her to approach all acceptably, whatever 
their rank or character. She soon became 
prominent in influence among the prisoners, 
and reigned there, as every where else, over the 
hearts of willing subjects. Her composure, her 
^ cheerfulness, her clear and melodious voice, 
caused her to be selected to read, each day, to 
the ladies, the journal of the preceding day. 
From their windows they could see, each morn- 



70 



Josephine. [A.D.1794. i 



Scenes from the prison windows. Anecdote of Hortense. 

4ng, the carts bearing through the streets their 
burden of unhappy victims who were to perish 
on the scaffold. Not unfrequently a wife would 
catch a glimpse of her husband, or a mother of 
her son, borne past the grated windows in the 
cart of the condemned. Who can tell the fear 
and anguish with which the catalogue of the 
guillotined was read, when each trembling heart 
apprehended that the next word might an- 
nounce that some loved one had perished ? Not 
unfrequently a piercing shriek, and a fainting 
form falling lifeless upon the floor, revealed upon 
whose heart the blow had fallen. 

Hortense, impetuous and unreflecting, was so 
impatient to see her mother, that one morning 
she secretly left her aunt's house, and, in a 
market cart, traveled thirty miles to Paris. She 
found her mother's maid, Victorine, at the fam- 
ily mansion, where all the property was sealed 
up by the revolutionary functionaries. After 
making unavailing efforts to obtain an interview 
with her parents, she returned the next day to 
Fontainebleau. Josephine was informed of this 
imprudent act of ardent affection, and wrote to 
her child the following admirable letter : 

" I should be entirely satisfied with the good 
heart of my Hortense were I not displeased with 



A.D.1794.] Scenes in Prison. 71 

Letter from Josephine to Hortense. Mitigation of severity. 

her bad head. How is it, my daughter, that, 
without permission from your aunt, you have 
come to Paris ? This was very wrong ! But 
it was to see me, you will say. You ought to 
be aware that no one can see me without an 
order, to obtain which requires both means and 
precautions. And, besides, you got upon M. 
Dorcet's cart, at the risk of incommoding him 
and retarding the conveyance of his merchan- 
dise. In all this you have been very inconsid- 
erate. My child I observe, it is not sufficient 
to do good ; you must also do good properly. 
At your age, the first of all virtues is confidence 
and docility toward your relations. I am there- 
fore obliged to tell you that I prefer your tran- 
quil attachment to your misplaced warmth. 
This, however, does not prevent me from em- 
bracing you, but less tenderly than I shall do 
when I learn that you have returned to your 
aunt." 

There was at this time, for some unknown 
reason, a little mitigation in the severity with 
which the prisoners were treated, and Josephine 
was very sanguine in the belief that the hour 
of their release was at hand. Emboldened by 
this hope, she wrote a very earnest appeal to 
the Committee of Public Safety, before whom 



72 Josephine. [A.D.1794. 

Josephine appeals to the Committee. She is summoned to trial. 

the accusations against M. Beauharnais would 
be brought. The sincerity and frankness of the 
eloquent address so touched the feelings of the 
president of the committee, that he resolved to 
secure for Josephine and her husband the in- 
dulgence of an interview. The greatest caution 
was necessary in doing this, for he periled his 
own life by the manifestation of any sympathy 
for the accused. 

The only way in which he could accomplish 
his benevolent project was to have them both 
brought together for trial. Neither of them 
knew of this design. One morning Josephine, 
while dreaming of liberty and of her children, 
was startled by the unexpected summons to 
appear before the Revolutionary tribunal. She 
knew that justice had no voice which could 
be heard before that merciless and sanguinary 
court. She knew that the mockery of a trial 
was but the precursor of the sentence, which 
was immediately followed by the execution. 
From her high hopes this summons caused a 
fearful fall. Thoughts of her husband and her 
children rushed in upon her overflowing heart, 
and the tenderness of the woman for a few mo- 
ments triumphed over the heroine. Soon, how- 
ever, regaining in some degree her composure, 



A.D.1794.] Scenes in Prison. 73 

The unexpected interview. Feeling manifested by Beauharnais. 

she prepared herself, with as much cahnness as 
possible, to meet her doom. She was led from 
her prison to the hall where the blood-stained 
tribunal held its session, and, with many oth- 
ers, was placed in an ante-room, to await her 
turn for an examination of a few minutes, upon 
the issues of which life or death was suspended. 
While Josephine was sitting here, in the anguish 
of suspense, an opposite door was opened, and 
some armed soldiers led in a group of victims 
from another prison. As Josephine's eye va- 
cantly wandered over their features, she was 
startled by the entrance of one whose wan and 
haggard features strikingly reminded her of her 
husband. She looked again, their eyes met, 
and husband and wife were instantly locked in 
each other's embrace. At this interview, the 
stoicism of M. Beauharnais was entirely sub- 
dued—the thoughts of the past, of his unworthi- 
ness, of the faithful and generous love of Jose- 
phine, rushed in a resistless flood upon his soul. 
He leaned his aching head upon the forgiving 
bosom of Josephine, and surrendered himself to 
love, and penitence, and tears. 

This brief and painful interview was their 
last. They never met again. They were al- 
lowed but a few moments together ere the offi- 



74 Josephine. [A,D. 1794. 

Trial of M. Beauharnais and Josephine. Hopes cherished. 

cers came and dragged M. Beauharnais before 
the judges. His examination lasted but a few- 
minutes, when he was remanded back to pris- 
on. Nothing was proved against him. No se- 
rious accusation even was laid to his charge. 
But he was a noble. He had descended from 
illustrious ancestors, and therefore, as an aris- 
tocrat, he was doomed to die. Josephine was 
also conducted into the presence of this san- 
guinary tribunal. She was the wife of a no- 
bleman. She was the friend of Maria Antoi- 
nette. She had even received distinguished 
attentions at court. These crimes consigned 
her also to the guillotine. Josephine was con- 
ducted back to her prison, unconscious of the 
sentence which had been pronounced against 
her husband and herself. She even cherished 
the sanguine hope that they would soon be lib- 
erated, for she could not think it possible that 
they could be doomed to death without even 
the accusation of crime. 

Each evening there was brought into the 
prison a list of the names of those who were to 
be led to the guillotine on the ensuing morning. 
A few days after the trial, on the evening of the 
24th of July, 1794, M. Beauharnais found his 
name with the proscribed who were to be led to 



A.D.1794.] Scenes in Prison. 75 

Beauhamais'a last letter to Josephine. Brutality of the executioners. 

the scaffold with the light of the next day. 
Love for his wife and his children rendered life 
too precious to him to be surrendered without 
anguish. But sorrow had subdued his heart, 
and led him with prayerfulness to look to God 
for strength to meet the trial. The native dig- 
nity of his character also nerved him to meet 
his fate with fortitude. 

He sat down calmly in his cell, and wrote a 
long, affectionate, and touching letter to his 
wife. He assured her of his most heartfelt ap- 
preciation of the purity and nobleness of heir 
character, and of her priceless worth as a wife 
and a mother. He thanked her again and 
again for the generous spirit with which she 
forgave his offenses, when, weary and contrite, 
he returned from his guilty wanderings, and 
anew sought her love. He implored her to 
cherish in the hearts of his children the memo- 
ry of their father, that, though dead, he might 
still live in their affections. While he was 
writing, the executioners came in to cut off his 
long hair, that the ax might do its work unim- 
peded. Picking up a small lock from the floor, 
he wished to transmit it to his wife as his last 
legacy. The brutal executioners forbade him 
the privilege. He, however, succeeded in pur- 



76 Josephine. [A.D. 1794. 

Removal of the guillotine. Execution of M. Beauharnais, 

chasing from them a few hairs, which he in- 
closed in his letter, and which she subsequently 
received. 

In the early dawn of the morning, the cart 
of the condemned was at the prison door. The 
Parisians were beginning to be weary of the 
abundant flow of blood, and Robespierre had 
therefore caused the guillotine to be removed 
from the Place de la Revolution to an obscure 
spot in the Faubourg St. Antoine. A large 
number of victims were doomed to die that 
morning. The carts, as they rolled along the 
pavements, groaned with their burdens, and the 
persons in the streets looked on in sullen silence. 
M. Beauharnais, with firmness, ascended the 
scaffold. The slide of the guillotine fell, and 
the brief drama of his stormy life was ended. 

While the mutilated form of M. Beauharnais 
was borne to an ignoble burial, Josephine, en- 
tirely unconscious of the calamity which had 
befallen her, was cheering her heart with the 
hope of a speedy union with her husband and 
her children in their own loved home. The 
morning after the execution, the daily journal, 
containing the names of those who had perished 
on the preceding day, was brought, as usual, to 
the prison. Some of the ladies in the prison 



A.D. 1794] Scenes IN Prison 77 

Josephine becomes infonned thereof. Her grief. Her despair. 

had received the intunation that M. Beauhar- 
nais had fallen. They watched, therefore, the 
arrival of the journal, and, finding their fears 
established, they tried, for a time, to conceal 
the dreadful intelligence from the unconscious 
widow. But Josephine was eagerly inquiring 
for the paper, and at last obtaining it, she ran 
her eye hastily over the record of executions, 
and found the name of her husband in the fatal 
list. She fell senseless upon the floor. For a 
long time she remained in a swoon. When 
consciousness returned, and with it a sense of 
the misery into which she was plunged, in the 
delirium of her anguish she exclaimed, '' Oh 
God ! let me die ! let me die I There is no 
peace for me but in the grave." 

Her friends gathered around her. They im- 
plored her to think of her children, and for their 
sake to prize a life she could no longer prize for 
her own. The poignancy of her grief gradual- 
ly subsided into the calm of despair. A sleep- 
less night lingered slowly away. The darkness 
and the gloom of a prison settled down upon 
her soul. The morning dawned drearily. A 
band of rough and merciless agents from the 
Revolutionary Assembly came to her with the 
almost welcome intelligence that in two days 



75 Josephine. [A.B. 17M. 

Preparations for the execution of Josephine. She becomes cheerful. 

she was to be led to the Conciergerie, and from 
thence to her execution. These tidings would 
have been joyful to Josephine were it not for 
her children. A mother's love clung to the or- 
phans, and it was with pain inexpressible that 
she thought of leaving them alone in this tem- 
pestuous world — a world made so stormy, so 
woeful, by man's inhumanity to his fellow-man. 
The day preceding the one assigned for her 
execution arrived. The numerous friends of 
Josephine in the prison hung around her with 
tears. The heartless jailer came and took away 
her mattress, saying, with a sneer, that she 
would need it no longer, as her head was soon 
to repose upon the soft pillow of the guillotine. 
It is reported that, as the hour of execution 
drew nearer, Josephine became not only per- 
fectly calm, but even cheerful in spirit. She 
looked affectionately upon the weeping group 
gathered around her, and, recalling at the mo- 
ment the prediction of the aged negress, gently 
'-'smiling, said, "We have no cause for alarm, 
my friends; I am not to be executed. It is 
written in the decrees of Fate that I am yet to 
be Queen of France." Some of her friends 
thought that the suppressed anguish of her heart 
had driven her to delirium, aad they wept more 



A.D. 1794] Scenes in Prison. 79 

Credulity of Josephine. The unexpected deliverance. 

bitterly. But one of the ladies, Madame d'Ai- 
guillon, was a little irritated at pleasantry which 
she deemed so ill timed. With something like 
resentment, she asked, ''Why, then, madame, 
do you not appoint your household?" "Ah! 
that is true," Josephine replied. " I had for- 
gotten. Well, you, my dear, shall be my maid 
of honor. I promise you the situation." They 
both lived to witness the strange fulfillment of 
this promise. Josephine, however, who, from the 
circumstances of her early life, was inclined to 
credulity, afterward declared that at the time 
her mind reposed in the full confidence that in 
some way her life would be saved, and that the 
prediction of the negress would be virtually re- 
alized. 

The shades of night settled down around the 
gloomy convent, enveloping in their folds the 
despairing hearts which thronged this abode of 
woe. Suddenly the most exultant shout of joy 
burst from every lip, and echoed along through 
corridors, and dungeons, and grated cells. There 
was weeping and fainting for rapture inexpress- 
ible. The prisoners leaped into each other's 
arms, and, frantic with happiness, clung togeth- 
er in that long, and heartfelt embrace which 
none can appreciate but those who have been 



80 Josephine. [A.D. 1794. 

A miraculous change. Deliverance to the captives. 

companions in woe. Into the blackness of their 
midnight there had suddenly burst the blaze of 
noonday. What caused this apparently mirac- 
ulous change ? The iron-hearted jailer had 
passed along, announcing, in coarsest phrase, 
THAT Robespierre was guillotined. There 
had been a new revolution. The tyrant had 
fallen. The prison's which he had filled with 
victpns were to be emptied of their captives. 



A.D. 1794] Release from Prison. 81 

Robespierre. M. Tallien. Mndame de Foiiteuny. 



Chapter V. 

The Release from Prison. 

rpiHE overthrow of Robespierre, and the con- 
-*- sequent escape of Josephine from the doom 
impending over her, was in the following man- 
ner most strangely accomplished. The tyranny 
of Robespierre had become nearly insupportable. 
Conspiracies were beginning to be formed to 
attempt his overthrow. A lady of great beau- 
ty and celebrity, Madame de Fontenay, was 
imprisoned with Josephine. M. Tallien, a man 
of much influence with a new party then rising 
into power, had conceived a strong attachment 
for this lady, and, though he could not safely 
indulge himself in interviews with her in pris- 
on, he was in the habit of coming daily to the 
Convent of the Carmelites that he might have 
the satisfaction of catching a glimpse of the one 
he loved through her grated window. 

Madame de Fontenay had received secret in- 
telligence that she was soon to be led before the 
Convention for trial. This she knew to be but 
the prelude of hei\ execution. That evening 
F 



82 Josephine. [A.D. 1794. 

A lover's device. Execution of Robespierre decreed. 

M. Tallien appeared as usual before the guard- 
ed casement of the Carmelites. Madame de 
Fontenay and Josephme, arm in arm, leaned 
against the bars of the window, as if to breathe 
the fresh evening air, and made a sign to arrest 
M. Tallien's particular attention. They then 
dropped from the window a piece of cabbage- 
leaf, in which Madame de Fontenay had in- 
closed the following note : 

" My trial is decreed — the result is certain. 
If you love me as you say, urge every means 
to save France and me." 

With intense interest, they watched the mo- 
tions of M. Tallien until they saw him take the 
cabbage-leaf from the ground. Roused by the 
billet to the consciousness of the necessity of 
immediate action, he proceeded to the Conven- 
tion, and, with the impassioned energy which 
love for Madame de Fontenay and hatred of 
Robespierre inspired, made an energetic and 
fearless assault upon the tyrant. Robespierre, 
pale and trembling, saw that his hour had 
come. A decree of accusation was preferred 
against him, and the head of the merciless des- 
pot fell upon that guillotine where he had al- 
ready caused so many thousands to perish. The 
day before Josephine was to have been execu- 

\ 



A.D. 1794.] Release froxAI Prison. 83 

He is guillotined. Singular mode of convejdng information. 

ted, he was led, mangled and bleeding, to the 
scaffold. He had attempted to commit suicide. 
The ball missed its aim, but shattered his jaw. 
The wretched man ascended the ladder, and 
stood upon the platform of the guillotine. The 
executioners tore the bandage from his man- 
gled face, that the linen might not impede the 
blow of the ax. Their rude treatment of the 
inflamed wound extorted a cry of agony, which 
thrilled upon the ear of the assembled crowd, 
and produced a silence as of the grave. The 
next moment the slide fell, and the mutilated 
head was severed from the body. Then the 
very heavens seemed rent by one long, loud, ex- 
ulting shout, which proclaimed that Robespierre 
was no more ! 

The death of Robespierre arrested the ax 
which was just about to fall upon the head of 
Josephine. The first intimation of his over- 
throw was communicated to her in the follow- 
ing singular manner. Madame d'Aiguillon 
was weeping bitterly, and sinking down with 
faintness in view of the bloody death to which 
her friend was to be led on the morrow. Jose- 
phine, whose fortitude had not forsaken her, 
drew her almost senseless companion to the 
window, that she might be revived by the fresh 



84 Josephine. [A.D. 1794. 

Pantomimic representation of Robespierre's foil. 

air. Her attention was arrested by a Woman 
of the lower orders in the street, who was con- 
tinually looking up to the window, beckoning 
to Josephine, and making many very singular 
gestures. She seemed to desire to call her at- 
tention particularly to the robe which she wore, 
holding it up, and pointing to it again and 
again. Josephine, through the iron grating, 
cried out Robe. The woman eagerly gave signs 
of assent, and immediately took up a stone, 
which, in French is Pierre. Josephine again 
cried out pierre. The woman appeared over- 
joyed on perceiving that her pantomime began 
to be understood. She then put the two to- 
gether, pointing alternately to the one and to 
the other. Josephine cried out Robespierre. 
The woman then began to dance and shout with 
delight, and made signs of cutting off a head. 

This pantomime excited emoti'~as in the bo- 
som of Josephine which can i.ot be described. 
She hardly dared to believe that the tyrant had 
actually fallen, and yet she knew not how else 
to account for the singular conduct of the wom- 
an. But a few moments elapsed before a great 
noise was heard in the corridor of the prison. 
The turnkey, in loud and fearless tones, cried 
out to his dog, " Get out, you cursed brute of 



I 



A.D. 1794.] Release from Prison. 87 



Universal joy caused by the death of the tyrant. 

a Robespierre !" This emphatic phraseology- 
con vinced them that the sanguinary monster 
before whom all France had trembled was no 
longer to be feared. In a few moments the 
glad tidings were resounding through the pris- 
on, and many were in an instant raised from 
the abyss of despair to almost a delirium of bliss. 
Josephine's bed was restored to her, and she 
placed her head upon her pillow that night, and 
sank down to the most calm and delightful re- 
pose. 

"^ No language can describe the transports ex- 
cited throughout all France by the tidings of 
the fall of, Robespierre. Three hundred thou- 
sand captives were then lingering in the prisons 
of Paris awaiting death. As the glittering steel 
severed the head of the tyrant from his body, 
their prison doors burst open, and France was 
filled with hearts throbbing with ecstacy, and 
with eyes overflowing with tears of rapture. 
Five hundred thousand fugitives were trembling 
in their retreats, apprehensive of arrest. They 
issued from their hiding-places frantic with joy, 
and every village witnessed their tears and em- 
braces. 

The new party which now came into power, 
with Tallien at its head, immediately liberated 



Josephine. [A.D. 1794. 



Josephine released from captivity. Gloomy prospect. 

those who had been condemned by their oppo- 
nents, and the prison doors of Josephine were 
thrown open to her. But from the gloom of 
her cell she returned to a world still dark and 
clouded. Her husband had been beheaded, and 
all his property confiscated. She found herself 
a widow and penniless. Nearly all of her friends 
had perished in the storms which had swept 
over France. The Reign of Terror had passed 
away, but gaunt famine was staring the nation 
in the face. They were moments of ecstacy 
when Josephine, again free, pressed Eugene and 
Hortense to her heart. But the most serious 
embarrassments immediately crowded upon her. 
Poverty, stern and apparently remediless, was 
her lot. She had no friends upon whom she 
had any right to call for aid. There was no 
employment open before her by which she could 
obtain her subsistence ; and it appeared that she 
and her children were to be reduced to absolute 
beggary. These were among the darkest hours 
of her earthly career. It was from this abyss 
of obscurity and want that she was to be raised 
to a position of splendor and of power such as 
the wildest dreams of earthly ambition could 
hardly have conceived. 

Though Robespierre was dead, the strife of 



A.D. 1794.] Release FROM Prison. 89 

Heartlessness of Marat. ^Eugene apprenticed to an artisan, 

rancorous parties raged with unabated violence, 
and blood flowed freely. The reign of the mob 
still continued, and it was a mark of patriotism 
demanded by the clamors of haggard want and 
degradation to persecute all of noble blood, 
^oung girls from the boarding-schools, and boys 
just emerging from the period of childhood, 
were beheaded by the guillotine. '' We must 
exterminate," said Marat, " all the whelps of 
aristocracy." Josephine trembled for her chil- 
dren. Poverty, and the desire of concealing 
Eugene among the mass of the people, induced 
her to apprentice her son to a house carpenter. 
For several months Eugene cheerfully and la- 
boriously toiled in this humble occupation. But 
the sentiments he had imbibed from both father 
and mother ennobled him, and every day pro- 
duced new developments of a lofty character, 
which no circumstances could long depress. 

Let such a woman as Josephine, with her 
cheerful, magnanimous, self-sacrificing, and 
generous spirit, be left destitute in any place 
where human beings are congregated, and she 
will soon inevitably meet with those who will 
feel honored in securing her friendship and in 
offering her a home. Every fireside has a wel- 
come for a noble heart. Madame Dumoulin, a 



90 Josephine. [A.D. 1795. 

Kindness of Josephine's friends. She recovers her property. 

lady of great elevation of character, whose large 
fortune had by some chance escaped the gen- 
eral wreck, invited Josephine to her house, 
and freely supplied her wants. Madame Fon- 
tenay, also, who was a woman of great beauty 
and accomplishments, soon after her liberation 
was married to M. Tallien, to whom she had 
tossed the note, inclosed in a cabbage-leaf, from 
her prison window. It was this note which had 
so suddenly secured the overthrow of the tyrant, 
and had rescued so many from the guillotine. 
They bath became the firm friends of Josephine. 
Others, also, soon became strongly attracted to 
her by the loveliness of her character, and were 
ambitious to supply all her wants. 

Through M. Tallien, she urged her claim 
upon the National Convention for the restora- 
tion of her confiscated property. After a long 
and tedious process, she succeeded in regaining 
such a portion of her estate as to provide her 
amply with all the comforts of life. Again she 
had her own peaceful home, with Eugene and 
Hortense by her side. Her natural buoyancy 
of spirits rose superior to the storms which had 
swept so mercilessly over her, and in the love 
of her idolized children, and surrounded by the 
sympathies of appreciative friends, days of se- 



AD. 1795.] Release from Prison. 91 



A domestic scene. A new order of knighthood. 

renity, and even of joy, began to shine upon 
her. 

A domestic scene occurred in the dwelling 
of Josephine on the anniversary of the death of 
M. Beauharnais peculiarly characteristic of the 
times and of the French people. Josephine 
called Eugene to her room, and presented to 
him a portrait of his father. " Carry it to your 
chamber, my son," she said, " and often let it 
be the object of your contemplations. Above 
all, let him v^hose image it presents be your 
constant model. He was the most amiable of 
men ; he w^ould have been the best of fathers." 

Eugene was a young man of that enthusi- 
astiG genius which is the almost invariable ac- 
companiment of a noble character. His emo- 
tions were deeply excited. With the charac- 
teristic ardor of his countrymen, he covered the 
portrait wdth kisses, and wept freely. Josephine 
folded her noble boy in her embrace, and they 
mingled their tears together. 

In the evening, as Josephine was sitting 
alone in her parlor, her son entered, accompa- 
nied by six young men, his companions, each 
decorated with a copy of the portrait of M. 
Beauharnais suspended from the neck by a black 
and white ribbon. " You see," said Eugene to 



92 Josephine. [A.D. 1795. 

The Order of Filial Love. Inauguration. Decorations of the room. 

his mother, '' the founders of a new order of 
knighthood. Behold our tutelary saint," point- 
ing to the portrait of his father. " And these 
are the first members." He then introduced 
his youthful companions to his mother. 

"• Ours," he continued, " is named the Order 
of Filial Love ; and, if you would witness the 
first inauguration, pass with these gentlemen 
into the small drawing-room." 

Josephine entered the drawing-room with the 
youthful group, and found it very tastefully 
ornamented with garlands of ivy, roses, and 
laurels. Inscriptions, taken from the printed 
discourses or remarkable sayings of M. Beau- 
harnais, were suspended upon the walls. Gir- 
andoles, with lighted tapers, brilliantly illumin- 
ated the room. An altar was erected, hung 
with festoons of flowers, and upon this altar 
was placed the full-length portrait of M. Beau- 
harnais. Three crowns of white and red roses 
were suspended from the picture-frame, and in 
front were placed two vases with perfumes. 

The young gentlemen ranged themselves 
about the altar in perfect silence, and, at a con- 
certed signal, eagerly unsheathed the swords 
which they wore at their sides, and, clasping 
hands, solemnly took the oath, " To love their 



A.D. 1795.] Release from Prison. 93 

The oath. New organization of social society. 

parents^ succor each other ^ and to defend their 
country P At this moment, Eugene, unfurling 
and waving a small banner, with its folds sha- 
ded the head of his father. "We then em- 
braced each other," says Josephine, " mingling 
tears with smiles, and the most amiable disor- 
der succeeded to the ceremonial of inaugura- 
tion." 

The fascination of Josephine's person and 
address drew multitudes of friends around her, 
and her society was ever coveted. As time 
softened the poignancy of her past sorrows, she 
mingled more and more in the social circles of 
that metropolis where pleasure and gayety ever 
reign. The terrible convulsions of the times 
had thrown the whole fabric of society into con- 
fusion. Great efforts were now made to revive 
the festivities of former days. Two centers of 
society were naturally established. The first 
included that in which Josephine moved. It 
/was composed of the remains of the ancient no- 
bility, who had returned to Paris with the frag- 
ments of their families and their shattered for- 
tunes. Rigid economy was necessary to keep 
up any appearance of elegance. But that pol- 
ish of manners which almost invariably descend;? 
from an illustrious ancestry marked all their 



m Josephine. [A.D. 1795, 

The " Ball of the Victims." Fashionable style of hair-dressing. 

intercourse. The humiliations through which 
the nobles had passed had not diminished the 
exclusiveness of their tastes. The other circle 
was composed of merchants and bankers who 
had acquired opulence in the midst of the con- 
fiscations and storms of revolution. The pas- 
sion for display was prominent in all their as- 
semblies, as is necessarily the case with those 
whose passport to distinction is wealth. 
** At the theaters and all the places of public 
festivity, there were presented studied memo- 
rials of the scenes of horror through which all 
had recently passed. One of the most fashion- 
able and brilliant assemblies then known in 
Paris was called The Ball of the Victims: No 
one was admitted to this assembly who had not 
lost some near relative by the guillotine. The , 
most fashionable style of dressing the hair was 
jocosely called " a la guillotine." The hair 
was arranged in the manner in which it had 
been adjusted by the executioner for the unim- 
peded operation of the ax. And thus, with 
songs, and dances, and laughter-moving jokes, 
they commemorated the bloody death of their 
friends. 

A new insurrection by the populace of Paris 
was at this time planned against the Conven- 



A. D. 1795.] Release from Prison. 95 

A new in8urrection. The little Corsican. 

tion. The exasperated people were again to 
march upon the Tuilleries. The members were 
in extreme consternation. The mob could bring 
tens of thousands against them, well armed with 
muskets and heavy artillery. There were but 
five hundred regular troops with which to resist 
the onset. Menou, the officer in command, ac- 

♦ knowledged his inability to meet the crisis, and 
surrendered his power to Barras. This general 
immediately, as by a sudden thought, exclaim- 
ed, " I know the man who can defend us ! He 
is a little Corsican, who dares do any thing, and 
is perfectly reckless of consequences !" 

The little Corsican, Napoleon Bonaparte, the 
day-star of whose fame was just beginning to 
rise over the smouldering ruins of Toulon, was 
invited to meet the Convention. His fragile 

/ form was almost feminine in its proportions, 
but an eagle eye calmly reposed in his pallid 
and emaciate countenance. He had been se- 
verely sick, and the Convention looked with 
amazement and incredulity upon this feeble 
youth, as the one presented to rescue them from 
their impending peril. 

The president fixed his eye upon him doubt- 
ingly, and said, " Are you willing to undertake 
our defense ?" 



96 Josephine. [A.D.179o. 

Napoleon's authority established. The Tuilleries fortifipd. 

" Yes !" was the calm, laconic, and almost 
indifferent reply. 

'' But are you aware of the magnitude of the 

undertaking ?" 

^^ " Fully !" said Napoleon, fixing his piercing 

eye upon the president; "and I am in the 

habit of accomplishing that which I undertake." 

From that moment his authority was estab- 
lished. Every member of the Convention felt 
the mysterious fascination of his master mind. 
Barras surrendered the whole command into 
his hands. He instantly called into the city all 
the national forces which were around Paris, 
^ and disposed fifty pieces of heavy artillery, un- 
der the command of Murat, so as to rake all the 
avenues to the Convention. His calm and al- 
most superhuman energy sought no repose that 
night. The delay of but a few moments would 
have placed this very park of artillery, which 
secured his victory, in the hands of the insur- 
gents. When the morning dawned, the Tuil- 
leries, as if by magic, had assumed the aspect 
of a fortified camp. The little Corsican was 
silently and calmly awaiting the onset, as se- 
cure of triumph as if the victory were already 
achieved. 

But in every quarter of Paris, during th,e 



A.D. 1795 Release from Prison. 97 

Advance of the insurgents. Napoleon opens his batteries. 

night, the insurgents had been mustering their 
forces, and the mutterings of the approaching 
storm were dismally echoed through the streets 
of the metropolis. Above thirty thousand men, 
all well armed with musketry and artillery, in 
regular military array, and under experienced 
generals, came pouring down upon the feeble 
band which surrounded the Convention. 

Will the little Corsican dare to fire upon the 
people ? Will this pale and slender youth, who 
had hardly yet entered upon the period of man- 
hood, dare to deluge the pavements of Paris 
with the blood of her own citizens ? Will he 
venture upon a conflict so unequal, when fail- 
ure is his certain death ? 
* Napoleon, with his colorless cheek, his flash- 
ing eye, and his air of mysterious melancholy, 
stood in silence, as the gathering thousands 
crowded down upon him. He offered no par- 
ley ; he uttered not a word of warning ; he con- 
descended to no threats. The insurgents, be- 
lieving that he would not dare to fire upon 
them, advanced within fifty yards of his masked 
battery, when he opened his columns, and, in 
the roar of artillery shotted to the muzzle, the 
voice of Napoleon was for the first time heard 
in the streets of Paris. The thunder of his 
G 



98 Josephine. [A.D. 1795. 

Defeat of the insurgents. Rising fame of Napoleon. 

tones was preceded by the lightning's bolt. The 
merciless storm of grape-shot, sweeping the 
streets, covered the ground with the dead and 
the dying. No mortal could withstand such a 
conflict. The advancing foe wavered for an 
instant, and then, in the utmost consternation, 
took to flight. Napoleon commanded immedi- 
ately the most rapid discharge of blank car- 
tridges. Peal upon peal, their loud reverbera- 
tions deafened the city, and added wings to the 
flight, of the terror-stricken crowd. But a few 
moments elapsed ere not even a straggler could 
be seen in the deserted streets. The little Cor- 
sioan, pale and calm, stood, with folded arms, 
as unperturbed as if no event of any moment 
had occurred. During the whole day, howev- 
er, the conflict continued in different parts of 
the city, but before nightfall the insurgents 
were every where entirely discomfited. 

Paris was now filled with the name of Na- 
poleon. Some regarded him as a savior, pro- 
tecting the Convention ; others considered him 
a demon, deluging the capital with blood. One 
evening, Josephine was visiting at the house of 
a friend, and sitting by a window examining 
some beautiful violets, when Bonaparte was 
announced. Josephine had never yet met him, 



A.D. 1795.] Release from Prison. 99 

His first interview with Josephine. His " seal." 

though, of course, she had heard much of one 
whose rising fame filled the metropolis. 
^ She says that she trembled violently at the 
announcement of his name. His entrance 
seemed to excite general interest, and all eyes 
were turned toward him, though most of the 
company regarded him in silence. He approach- 
ed Josephine, and the subject of the recent con- 
flict in the streets of Paris was introduced. 

"It seems to me," said Josephine, "that it 
is only with regret that we should think of the 
consternation you have spread through the cap- 
ital. It is a frightful service you have per- 
formed." 

" It is very possible," he replied. " The 
military are only automata, to which the gov- 
ernment gives such motions as it pleases. They 
have no duty but to obey. Besides, I wished 
to teach the Parisians a little lesson. This is 
* my seal which I have set upon Francey 

This he said in such calm, quiet, imperturb- 
able tones, so expressive of his perfect confi- 
dence in himself, and of his indifference to the 
opinions of others, that Josephine was quite 
piqued, and replied politely, but yet in a man- 
ner which indicated her displeasure. 

" These light skirmishes," the young general 



100 Josephine. [ A.D. 1795. 

Napoleon disarms the populace. The sword of Beauharnais. 

rejoined, '' are but the first coruscations of my 
glory." 

" If you are to acquire glory at such a price," 
Josephine answered, " I would much rather 
count you among the victims." 

Such was the first interview between Jose- 
phine and Napoleon. It was merely a casual 
meeting in an evening party between a widow, 
graceful and beautiful, and a young man of 
* boundless ambition. Though Josephine was 
not pleased with Napoleon, he produced a very 
profound impression upon her mind. Napoleon, 
being now in command of the troops in Paris, 
by order of the Convention, executed the very 
unpopular office of disarming the populace. In 
the performance of this order, the sword of M. 
Beauharnais was taken. The next day, Eu- 
gene, who was then a boy twelve years of age, 
of exceedingly prepossessing appearance, pre- 
sented himself before Napoleon, and implored 
the return of the sword which had belonged to 
-his father. Napoleon was deeply interested in 
the frankness and the fervor of emotion mani- 
fested by the lad, and immediately complied 
with his request. Josephine called upon him 
the next day to thank him for his kindness to 
her son. He was at this interview as deeply 



A.D. 1795.] Release from Prison. 101 

Napoleon regards Josephine with interest. Her opinion of him. 

impressed by the fascinations of the mother as 
he had previously been struck by the noble 
bearing of the child. After this they frequent- 
ly met, and Josephine could not be blind to the 
interest with which she was regarded by Na- 
poleon. Situated as he then was, it was social 
elevation to him to be united with Madame do 
Beauharnais, and her rank, and influence, and 
troops of friends would greatly aid him in his 
ambitious plans. It is also unquestionably true 
that Napoleon formed a very strong attachment 
for Josephine. Indeed, she was the oiily person 
whom he ever truly loved. That he did love her 
at times most passionately there can be no doubt. 

Josephine, however, had many misgivings 
respecting the expediency of the union. She 
stated to her friends that he was the most fas- 
cinating man that she had ever met ; that she 
admired his courage, the quickness of his judg- 
ment, the extent of his information. She, how- 
ever, confessed that she did not really love him 
— that she stood in awe of him. " His search- 
ing glance," she says, " mysterious and inex- 
plicable, imposes even upon our Directors- 
judge if it may not intimidate a woman." 

" Being now past the heyday of youth," she 
writes in a letter to a friend, '' can I hope long 



102 Josephine. [A.D.1795. 

Letter to a friend. Foresight of Napoleon. 

to preserve that ardor of attachment which, in 
the general, resembles a fit of delirium ? If, 
after our union, he should cease to love me, 
will he not reproach me with what he will have 
sacrificed for my sake ? Will he not regret a 
more brilliant marriage which he might have 
contracted? "What shall I then reply? What 
shall I do ? I shall weep. Excellent resource ! 
you will say. Alas I I know that all this can 
serve no end ; but it has ever been thus ; tears 
are the only resource left me when this poor 
heart, so easily chilled, has suffered. Write 
quickly, and do not fear to scold me, should you 
judge that I am wrong. You know that what- 
ever comes from your pen will be taken in good 
part. 

' *' Barras gives assurance that if I marry the 
general, he will so contrive as to have him ap- 
pointed to the command of the army of Italy. 
Yesterday, Bonaparte, speaking of this favor, 
which already excites murmuring among his 
fellow-soldiers, though it be as yet only a prom- 
ise, said to me, * Think they, then, I have need 
of their protection to arrive at power ? Egre- 
gious mistake ! They will all be but too happy 
one day should I grant them mine. My sword 
is by my side, and with it I will go far.' 



A.D. 1795.] Release from Prison. 103 

His confidence. His ambition "unbounded. His moral principles. 

^' What say you to this security of success? 
Is it not a proof of confidence springing from 
an excess of vanity ? A general of brigade pro- 
tect the heads of government ! that, truly, is 
an event highly probable ! I know not how it 
is, but sometimes this waywardness gains upon 
me to such a degree that almost I believe pos- 
sible whatever this singular man may take it 
in his head to attempt ; and, with his imagina- 
tion, who can calculate what he will not under- 
take?" 

It was now winter. The storm of Revolu- 
tion had partially subsided. The times were, 
however, full of agitation and peril. Europe 
was in arms against France. There was no 
stable government and no respected laws. The 
ambitious young general consecrated his days 
with sleepless energy to his public duties, but 
each evening he devoted to Josephine.^ Napo- 
leon never manifested any taste for those dissi- 
pating pleasures which attract and ruin so many 
young men. He had no moral principles which 
pronounced such indulgences wrong, but the 
grandeur of his ambition absorbed all his ener- 
gies. He was, even at that time, a hard stu- 
dent. He was never more happy than when 
alone with Josephine, engaged in conversation 



104 Josephine. [A.D. 1795. 

Napoleon's estimate of the female sex. Strength of his attachment. 

or reading. His attachment for Josephine be- 
came very ardent and passionate. The female 
character at this time, in France, was far from 
high. Napoleon had but little respect for ladies 
in general. The circumstances of his life had 
led him to form a low estimate of the sex. He 
often said that all the rest of the sex were noth- 
ing compared with Josephine. He frequently 
gave public breakfasts to his friends, at which 
Josephine universally presided, though other la- 
dies were invited. 

In the pleasant mansion of Josephine, Napo- 
leon was in the habit of meeting a small cir- 
ole of select friends, who were strongly attached 
to Josephine, and who were able, and for her 
sake were willing to promote his interests. Na- 
poleon was a man of strong affections, but of 
stronger ambition. Josephine was entirely sat- 
isfied with the singleness and the ardor of his 
love. She sometimes trembled in view of its 
violence. She often remarked to her friends 
that he was incomparably the most fascinating 
man she had ever met. All have equally at- 
tested Napoleon's unrivaled powers of pleasing, 
whenever it suited his purpose to make the ef- 
fort. The winter thus rapidly and pleasantly 
passed away. 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 105 

Marriage of Josephine and Napoleon. The army of Italy. 



Chapter VL 
Josephine in Italy. 

f i^N the 9th of March, 1796, Josephine was 
^^ married to Napoleon. The Revolution had 
swept away every thing that was sacred in 
human and divine institutions, and the attempt 
had been made to degrade marriage into a mere 
partnership, which, any persons might contract 

« or dissolve at pleasure. According to the Rev- 
olutionary form, Josephine and Napoleon pre- 
sented themselves before a magistrate, and sim- 
ply announced their union. A few friends at- 
tended as witnesses of the ceremony. 

Napoleon had, in the mean time, been ap- 
pointed commander of the French forces in Italy. 
In twelve days after his nuptials, he left his 
bride and hastened to the army, then in the 
lowest state of poverty and suffering. The vet- 

• eran generals, when they first saw the pale-faced 
youth who was placed over them all, were dis- 
posed to treat him with contempt. Hardly an 
hour elapsed after his arrival ere they felt and 
admitted that he was their master. He seemed 



106 Josephine. [A.D.1796. 

Proclamation of Napoleon. He is called an ignoramus. 

insensible to mental exhaustion, or fatigue, or 
hunger, or want of sleep. He was upon horse- 
back night and day. Almost supernatural ac- 
tivity was infused into the army. It fell like 
an avalanche upon the Austrians. In fifteen 
days after lie took command, he proclaimed to 
his exulting and victorious troops, 

" Soldiers I you have gained in fifteen days 
six victories, taken one-and-twenty standards, 
fifty-five pieces of cannon, many strong places, 
and conquered the richest part of Piedmont; 
you have made fifteen thousand prisoners, and 
killed or wounded ten thousand men." 

Paris was perfectly intoxicated with the an- 
nouncement, day after day, of these brilliant 
achievements. The name of Napoleon was 
upon every lip, and all France resounded with 
his praises. " This young commander," said 
one of the discomfited veteran generals of the 
Austrian army, " knows nothing whatever about 
the art of war. He is a perfect ignoramus. 
He sets at defiance all the established rules of 
military tactics. There is no doing any thing 
with him." 

Napoleon, after a series of terrible conflicts 
and most signal triumphs, drove the Austrians 
out of Italy, pursued them into their own ooun- 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 107 

Josephine at Montebello. Her popularity. 

try, and at Leoben, almost within sight of the 
steeples of Vienna, dictated a peace, which 
crowned him, in the estimation of his country- 
men, with the highest glory. Josephine now 
went from Paris to Italy to meet her triumph- 
ant husband. They took up their residence at 
the Castle of Montebello, a most delightful 
country seat in the vicinity of Milan. 

And here Josephine passed a few months of 
almost unalloyed happiness. The dark and 
tempestuous days through which she had re- 
cently been led, had prepared her to enjoy most 
exquisitely the calm which ensued. She had 
been in the deepest penury. She was now in 
the enjoyment of all that wealth could confer. 
She had been widowed and homeless. She was 
now the wife of a victorious general whose 
fame was reverberating through Europe, and 
her home combined almost every conceivable 
attraction. She had been a prisoner doomed 
to die, and her very jailer feared to speak to her 
in tones of kindness. Now she was caressed by 
nobles and princes ; all the splendors of a court 
surrounded her, and every heart did her homage. 
Josephine presided at all her receptions and en- 
tertainments with an elegance of manner so 
winning as perfectly to fascinate the Milanese. 



108 Josephine. [A.D.1796. 

Pleasure excursions. Isola Bella. 

" I conquer provinces," said Napoleon of her at 
that time, " but Josephine wins hearts." The 
vicinity of Montebello combines perhaps as much 
of the beautiful and the sublime in scenery as 
can be found at any other spot on the surface 
of the globe. Napoleon sympathized most cor- 
dially with Josephine in her appreciation of the 
beautiful and the romantic; and though he 
devoted the energies of his mind, with unsleep- 
ing diligence, to the ambitious plans which en- 
grossed him, he found time for many delightful 
excursions with his fascinating bride. There 
is not, perhaps, in Italy a more lovely drive than 
that from Milan, along the crystal waters of 
«Lake Como to Lake Maggiore. This romantic 
lake, embosomed among the mountains, with its 
densely wooded islands and picturesque shores, 
was a favorite resort for excursions of pleasure. 
Here, in gay parties, they floated in boats, with 
well-trained rowers, and silken awnings, and 
streaming pennants, and ravishing music. The 
island of Isola Bella, or Beautiful Island, with 
its arcades, its hanging gardens, and its palace 
of monkish gloom, was Napoleon's favorite land- 
ing-place. Here they often partook of refresh- 
ments, and engaged with all vivacity in rural 
festivities. It is stated that, while enjoying one 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. Ill 

Anecdote. Ambition of Napoleon. 

of these excursions, Josephine, with one or two 
other ladies, was standing under a beautiful 
orange-tree, loaded with fruit, with the atten- 
tion of the party all absorbed in admiring the 
beauties of the distant landscape. Napoleon, 
unperceived, crept up the tree, and by a sudden 
shake brought down quite a shower of the golden 
fruit upon the ladies. The companions of Jo- 
sephine screamed with affright and n n from the 
tree. She, however, accustomed to such pleas- 
antries, suspected the source, and remained un- 
moved. " Why, Josephine !" exclaimed Napo- 
leon, '' you stand fire like one of my veterans." 
" And why should I not?" she promptly replied ; 
*' am I not the wife of their commander ?" 
- Napoleon, during these scenes of apparent 
relaxation, had but one thought — ambition. 
His capacious mind was ever restless, ever ex- 
cited, not exactly with the desire of personal 
aggrandizement, but of mighty enterprise, of 
magnificent achievement. Josephine, with her 
boundless popularity and her arts of persuasion, 
though she often trembled in view of the limit- 
less aspirations of her husband, was extremely 
influential in winning to him the powerful 
friends by whom they were surrounded. 

The achievements which Napoleon accom- 



112 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

His achievements. Fears of the Directory. 

plished during the short Italian campaign are 
perhaps unparalleled in ancient or modern war- 
fare. 

♦ With a number of men under his command 
ever inferior to the forces of the Austrians, he 
maneuvered always to secure, at any one point, 
an array superior to that of his antagonists. He 
cut up four several armies which were sent from 
Austria to oppose him, took one hundred and 
fifteen thousand prisoners, one hundred and sev- 
enty standards, eleven hundred and forty pieces 
of battering cannon and field artillery, and drove 
the Austrians from the frontiers of France to 
the walls of Vienna. He was every where hail- 
ed as the liberator of Italy ; and, encircled with 
the pomp and the power of a monarch, he re- 
ceived such adulation as monarchs rarely enjoy. 
The Directory in Paris began to tremble in 
view of the gigantic strides which this ambitious 
general was making. They surrounded him 
with spies to garner up his words, to watch his 
actions, and, if possible, to detect his plans. But 
the marble face of this incomprehensible youth 
told no secrets. Even to Josephine he revealed 
not his intentions ; and no mortal scrutiny could 
explore the thoughts fermenting in his deep and 
capacious mind. His personal appearance at 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 113 

Description of Napoleon. His reserve. 

this time is thus described by an observer of his 
triumphal entrance into Milan : 

'^ I beheld with deep interest and extreme at- 
tention that extraordinary man who has per- 
formed such great deeds, and about whom there 
is something which seems to indicate that his 
career is not yet terminated. I found him very 
like his portrait, small in stature, thin, pale, 
with the air of fatigue, but not in ill health. 
He appeared to me to listen with more abstrac- 
tion than interest, as if occupied rather with 
what he was thinking of than with what was 
said to him. There is great intelligence in his 
countenance, along with an expression of habit- 
ual meditation, which reveals nothing of what 
is passing within. In that thinking head, in 
that daring mind, it is impossible not to sup- 
pose that some designs are engendering which 
shall have their influence upon the destinies of 
Europe." 

Napoleon was fully confident of the jealousy 
he had aroused, and of the vigilance with which 
he was watched. His caution often wounded 
Josephine, as he was as impenetrable to her in 
reference to all his political plans as to any one 
else. While she at times loved him almost to 
adoration, she ever felt in awe of the unexplored 
H 



114 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

Remark of Josephine, Secret plans of Napoleon. 

recesses of his mind, y He appeared frequently 
lost in thought, and, perfectly regardless of the 
pomp and the pageantry with which he was 
surrounded, he gave unmistakable indications 
that he regarded the achievements he had al- 
ready accomplished as very trivial — merely the 
commencement of his career. She once re- 
marked to a friend, "During the many years 
we have now passed together, I never once be- 
held Bonaparte for a moment at ease — not even 
with myself. He is constantly on the alert. If 
at any time he appears to show a little confi- 
dence, it is merely a feint to throw the person 
with whom he is conversing off his guard, and 
to draw forth his real sentiments, but never 
does he himself disclose his own thoughts." 

Napoleon now deemed it expedient to visit 
Paris ; for he despised the weakness and the in- 
efficiency of those who, amid the surges of the 
Revolution, had been elevated there to the su- 
preme power, and already he secretly contem- 
plated the overthrow of the government, as soon 
as an opportunity promising success should be 
presented. Josephine, with her children, re- 
mained in Milan, that she might continue to 
dazzle the eyes of the Milanese with the splen- 
dor of the establishment of the Liberator of It- 






A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 115 

Napoleon's love for Josephine. Her influence over him, 

aly, and that she might watch over the inter- 
ests of her illustrious spouse. 

She gave splendid entertainments. Her sa- 
loons were ever thronged with courtiers, and 
the inimitable grace she possessed enabled her, 
with ease and self-enjoyment, to preside with 
queenly dignity over every scene of gayety. 
She was often weary of this incessant grandeur 
and display, but the wishes of her husband and 
her peculiar position seemed to afford her no 
choice. Napoleon unquestionably loved Jose- 
phine as ardently as he was capable of loving 
any one. He kept up a constant, almost a 
daily correspondence with her. • Near the close 
of his life, he declared that he was indebted to 
her for every moment of happiness he had known 
on earth. Ambition was, however, with Na- 
poleon a far more powerful passion than love. 
He was fully conscious that he needed the as- 
sistance of his most accomplished wife to raise 
him to that elevation he was resolved to attain. 
Self-reliant as he was, regardless as he ever ap- 
peared to be of the opinions or the advice of 
others, the counsel of Josephine had more influ- 
ence over him than perhaps that of all other 
persons combined. Her expostulations not un- 
frequently modified his plans, though his high 



116 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

A young aid-de-camp. Affection of the Italians for Napoleon. 

spirit could not brook the acknowledgment. 
Hortense and Eugene were with Josephine at 
Milan. Eugene, though but seventeen years 
of age, had joined Napoleon in the field as one 
of his aids, and had signalized himself by many 
acts of bravery. 

In this arrangement we see an indication of 
the plans of boundless ambition which were al- 
ready maturing in the mind of Bonaparte. The 
Italians hated their proud and domineering mas- 
ters, the Austrians. They almost adored Na- 
poleon as their deliverer. He had established 
the Cisalpine Republic, and conferred upon them 
a degree of liberty which for ages they had not 
enjoyed. Napoleon had but to unfurl his ban- 
ner, and the Italians, in countless thousands, 
were ready to rally around it. The army in 
Italy regarded the Little Corporal with senti- 
ments of veneration and affection, for which we 
may search history in vain for a parallel. Ita- 
ly consequently became the base of Napoleon's 
operations. There he was strongly intrenched. 
In case of failure in any of his operations in 
Paris, he could retire behind the Alps, and bid 
defiance to his foes. 

Josephine was exactly the partner he needed 
to protect these all-important interests during 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 117 

Josephine an ally. She is at home in every situation. 

his absence. Her strong and active intelligence, 
her sincerity, her unrivaled powers of fascina- 
ting all who approached her, and her entire de- 
votion to Napoleon, rendered her an ally of ex- 
ceeding efficiency. • Powerful as was the arm 
of Napoleon, he never could have risen to the 
greatness he attained without the aid of Jose- 
phine. She, at Milan, kept up the splendor of 
a royal court. The pleasure-loving Italians 
ever thronged her saloons. The most illustri- 
ous nobles were emulous to win her favor, that 
they might obtain eminence in the service of 
her renowned spouse. At the fetes and enter- 
tainments she gave to the rejoicing Milanese, 
she obtained access to almost every mind it was 
desirable to influence. No one could approach 
Josephine without becoming her friend, and a 
friend once gained was never lost. A weak 
woman, under these circumstances, which so 
severely tested the character, would have been 
often extremely embarrassed, and would have 
made many mistakes. It was remarkable in 
Josephine, that, notwithstanding the seclusion 
of her childhood and early youth, she ever ap- 
peared self-possessed, graceful, and at home in 
every situation in which she was placed. She 
ZApved through the dazzling scenes of her court 



118 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

Unembarrassed air of Josephine. She becomes the queen of etiquette. 

at Milan, scenes of unaccustomed brilliance 
which had so suddenly burst upon her, with an 
air as entirely natural and unembarrassed as if 
her whole life had been passed in the saloons 
of monarchs. She conversed with the most 
distinguished generals of armies, with nobles of 
the highest rank, with statesmen and scholars 
of wide-spread renown, with a fluency, an ap- 
propriateness, and an inimitable tact which 
would seem to indicate that she had been cra- 
dled in the lap of princes, and nurtured in the 
society of courts. It seemed never to be neces- 
sary for her to study the rules of etiquette. She 
was never accustomed to look to others to as- 
certain what conduct was proper under any cir- 
cumstances. Instinctive delicacy was her un- 
erring teacher, and from her bearing others 
compiled their code of politeness. She became 
the queen of etiquette, not the subject. 

Thus, while Napoleon, in Paris, was cau- 
tiously scrutinizing the state of public affairs, 
and endeavoring to gain a position there, Jose- 
phine, with the entire concentration of all her 
energies to his interests, was gaining for him 
in Milan vast accessions of power. She had no 
conception, indeed, of the greatness he was des- 
tined to attain. But she loved her husband. 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 119 

Josephine an object of homage. Her powers of fascination. 

She was proud of his rising renown, and it was 
lier sole ambition to increase, in every way in 
her power, the luster of his name. Aristocracy 
circled around her in delighted homage, while 
poverty, charmed by her sympathy and her be- 
neficence, ever greeted her with acclamations. 
■ The exploits of Napoleon dazzled the world, and 
the unthinking world has attributed his great- 
ness to his own unaided arm. But the gentle- 
ness of Josephine was one of the essential ele- 
ments in the promotion of his greatness. In 
co-operation with her, he rose. As soon as he 
abandoned her, he fell. 

Josephine soon rejoined her husband in Par- 
is, where she very essentially aided, by her fas- 
cinating powers of persuasion, in disarming the 
hostility of those who were jealous of his rising 
fame, and in attaching to him such adherents 
as could promote his interests. In the saloons 
of Josephine, many of the most heroic youths 
of France were led to ally their fortunes with 
those of the young general, whose fame had so 
suddenly burst upon the world. She had the 
rare faculty of diffusing animation and cheer- 
fulness wherever she appeared. " It is," she 
once beautifully remarked, " a necessity of my 
heart to love others, and to be loved by them 



120 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

Popular enthusiasm. Affected seclusion of Napoleon. 

in return." '' There is only one occasion," she 
again said, " in which I would voluntarily use 
the words / will, namely, when I would say, 
^Ivnll that all around me be happy.' " 

Napoleon singularly displayed his knowledge 
of human nature in the course he pursued upo i 
his return to Paris. He assumed none of th i 
pride of a conqueror. He studiously avoided 
every thing like ostentatious display. Day aft- 
er day his lieutenants arrived, bringing the 
standards taken from the Austrians. Pictures, 
and statues, and other works of art extorted 
from the conquered, were daily making their 
appearance, keeping the metropolis in a state 
of the most intense excitement. The Parisians 
were never weary of reading and re-reading 
those extraordinary proclamations of Napoleon, 
which, in such glowing language, described his 
almost miraculous victories. The enthusiasm 
of the people was thus raised to the highest 
pitch. • The anxiety of the public to see this 
young and mysterious victor was intense be- 
yond description. But he knew enough of the 
human heart to be conscious that, by avoiding 
the gratification of these wishes, he did but en- 
hance their intensity. Modestly retiring to an 
unostentatious mansion in the Rue Chante- 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 121 

He becomes studious. His laudable emulation. His noble ambition, 

reine, which, in compliment to him, had received 
the name of Rue de la Victoire, he secluded 
himself from the public gaze. He devoted his 
time most assiduously to study, and to conver- 
sation with learned men. He laid aside his 
military garb, and assumed the plain dress of a 
member of the Institute. When he walked the 
streets, he was seldom recognized by the people. 
Though his society was courted in the highest 
circles of Paris, his ambition was too lofty to 
be gratified with shining among the stars of 
fashion. Though he had as yet reached but the 

•twenty-sixth year of his age, he had already 
gained the reputation of being the first of gen- 
erals. He was emulous not only of appearing 
to be, but also of actually being, an accomplished 
scholar. ''I well knew," said he, "that the 
lowest drummer in the army would respect me 
more for being a scholar as well as a soldier." 

• Napoleon might have enriched himself be- 
yond all bounds in his Italian campaign had he 
been disposed to do so. Josephine, at times, 
remonstrated against his personal habits of 
economy, while he was conferring millions add- 
ed to millions upon France. But the ambition 
of her husband, inordinate as it was, was as 
sublime an ambition as any one could feel in 



122 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

Napoleon the idol of the array. Anecdote. 

view of merely worldly interests. He wished 
to acquire the renown of benefiting mankind by 

' the performance of the noblest exploits. His 
ultimate end was his own fame. But he knew 
that the durability of that fame could only be 
secured by the accomplishment of noble ends. 

The effeminate figure of Napoleon in these 
early days had caused the soldiers to blend with 

^ their amazed admiration of his military genius 
a kind of fondness of affection for which no par- 
allel can be found in ancient or modern story. 
The soldiers were ever rehearsing to one anoth- 
er, by their night-fires and in their long marches, 
anecdotes of his perfect fearlessness, his brilliant 
sayings, his imperious bearing, by which he 
overawed the haughtiness of aristocratic power, 
and his magnanimous acts toward the poor and 
the lowly. 

• * One night, when the army in Italy was in 
great peril, worn out with the fatigue of sleep- 
lessness and of battle, and surrounded by Aus- 
trians. Napoleon was taking the round of his 
posts in disguise, to ascertain the vigilance of 
his sentinels. He found one poor soldier, in 
perfect exhaustion, asleep at his post. Napo- 
leon shouldered his musket, and stood sentry 
for him for half an hour. When the man awoke 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 123 

Napoleon mounts guard. The "Little Corporal." 

and recognized the countenance of his general, 
he sank back upon the ground in terror and 
despair. He knew that death was the doom 
for such a crime. " Here, comrade," said Na- 
poleon, kindly, " here is your musket. You 
have fought hard and marched long, and your 
sleep is excusable. But a moment's inatten- 
tion might at present ruin the army. I hap- 
pened to be awake, and have guarded your post 
for you. You will be more careful another 
time." 

• At the "terrible passage of the bridge of 
Lodi," Napoleon stood at one of the guns, in 
the very hottest of the fire, directing it with his 
own hand. The soldiers, delighted at this very 
unusual exhibition of the readiness of their gen- 
eral to share all the toils and perils of the hum- 
blest private in the ranks, gave him the hon- 
orary and affectionate nickname of " The Little 
Corporal." By this appellation he was after- 
ward universally known in the army. The 
enthusiasm of the soldiers invested him with 
supernatural endowments, and every one was 
ready at any moment to peril life for the Little 
Corporal. 

The government at Paris, rapidly waning in 
popularity, notwithstanding their extreme jeal- 



124 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

Triumphal fete. Song of the soldiers. Speech of Barras. 

ousy of the wide-spreading influence of this vic- 
torious general, was compelled, by the sponta- 
neous acclamations of the people, to give him a 
public triumph, when the famous treaty which 
Napoleon had effected in Italy was to be for- 
mally presented to the Directory. The mag- 
nificent court of the Luxembourg was embel- 
lished with the flags of the armies which he had 
conquered, and the youthful hero of Lodi, of 
Areola, and of Rivoli made his first triumphant 
appearance in the streets of Paris. The en- 
thusiasm of the vast concourse of excitable Pa- 
risians overleaped all bounds. The soldiers of 
the proud army of Italy sang at their encamp- 
ments, in enthusiastic chorus, a song in which 
they declared that it was high time to eject the 
lawyers from the government, and make the 
Little Corporal the ruler of France. Barras, 
the friend of Josephine, who had selected Na- 
poleon to quell the insurrection in Paris, and 
who had secured to him the command of the 
army of Italy, declared in a eulogistic speech 
on this occasion that "Nature had exhausted 
all her powers in the creation of a Bonaparte." 
This sentiment was received with the most 
deafening peals of applause. 

But how like the phantasmagoria of magic 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 125 

Remarkable contrast, Josephine the center of attraction. 

has this change burst upon the bewildered Jo- 
sephine. But a few months before, her hus- 
band, wan and wasted with imprisonment and 
woe, had been led from the subterranean dun- 
geons of this very palace, with the execrations 
of the populace torturing his ear, to bleed upon 
the scaffold. She, also, was then herself a pris- 
oner, without even a pillow for her weary head, 
awaiting the dawn of the morning which was 
to conduct her steps to a frightful death. Her 
children, Hortense and Eugene, had been res- 
cued from homelessness, friendlessness, and beg- 
gary only by the hand of charity, and were de- 
pendent upon that charity for shelter and for 
daily bread. Now the weeds of widowhood have 
given place to the robes of the rejoicing bride, 
and that palace is gorgeously decorated in honor 
of the world-renoA\Tied companion upon whose 
arm she proudly leans. The acclamations re- 
sounding to his praise reverberate over mount- 
ain and valley, through every city and village 
of France. Princes, embassadors, and cour- 
tiers obsequiously crowd the saloons of Jose- 
phine. Eugene, an officer in the army, high in 
rank and honor, is lured along life's perilous 
pathway by the most brilliant prospects. Hor- 
tense, in dazzling beauty, and surrounded by ad- 



126 Josephine. [ A.D. 1796. 

Josephine the " Star of Napoleon." She is a ministering angel. 

mirers, is intoxicated with the splendor, which, 
like Oriental enchantment, has burst upon her 
view. 

• Josephine, so beautifully called " the Star of 
Napoleon," was more than the harbinger of his 
rising. She gave additional luster to his brill- 
iance, and was as the gentle zephyr, which 
sweeps away the mists and vapors, and presents 
a transparent sky through which the undimmed 
luminary may shine. Her persuasive influence 
was unweariedly and most successfully exerted 
in winning friends and in disarming adversaries. 
The admiration which was excited for the stern 
warrior in his solitary, silent, unapproachable 
grandeur, whose garments had been dyed in 
blood, whose fearful path had been signalized 
by conflagrations, and shrieks, and the wailings 
of the dying, was humanized and softened by 
the gentle loveliness of his companion, who was 
ever a ministering angel, breathing words of 
kindness, and diffusing around her the spirit of 
harmony and love. Napoleon ever freely ac- 
knowledged his indebtedness 4;o Josephine for 
her aid in these morning hours of his greatness. 
< But unalloyed happiness is never allotted to 
mortals. Josephine's very loveliness of person 
and of character was to her the occasion of 



A.D. 1796.] Josephine in Italy. 127 

Jealousy of Napoleon. Arts of her enemies to encourage it. 

many hours of heaviness. " No one could be in- 
sensible to the power of her attractions. The 
music of her voice, the sweetness of her smile, 
the grace of her manners, excited so much ad- 
miration, invested her with a popularity so uni- 
versal and enthusiastic, that Napoleon was, at 
times, not a little disturbed by jealousy. Her 
appearance was ever the signal for crowds to 
gather around her. The most distinguished 
and the most gallant men in France vied with 
each other in doing her homage. Some of the 
relatives of Napoleon, envious of the influence 
she exerted over her illustrious spouse, and 
anxious, by undermining her power, to subserve 
their own interests, were untiring in their en- 
deavors to foster all these jealousies. Josephine 
was exceedingly pained by the occasional indi- 
cations of her husband's distrust. A word from 
his lips, a glance from his eye, often sent her to 
her chamber with weeping eyes and an aching 
heart. An interview with her husband, how- 
ever, invariably removed his suspicions, and he 
gave her renewed assurances of his confidence 
and his love. 

The plans of Napoleon in reference to his fu- 
ture operations were still in a state of great 
uncertainty. His restless spirit could not brook 



128 Josephine. [A.D.1796. 

The " pear" not yet ripe. Napoleon resolves to go to Egypt. 

inactivity. He saw clearly that the time had 
not yet come in which he could, with the pros- 
pect of success, undertake to overthrow the 
Revolutionary government and grasp the reins 
of power himself. To use his own expressive 

* language, <' The pear was not yet ripe." To 
one of his intimate friends he remarked, "They 
do not long preserve at Paris the remembrance 
of any thing. If I remain any length of time 
unemployed, I am undone. The renown of one, 
in this great Babylon, speedily supplants that 

* of anothe .* If I am seen three times at the 
opera, I shall no longer be an object of curiosity. 
You need not talk of the desire of the citizens 
to see me. Crowds, at least as great, would go 
to see me led out to the scaffold. I am de- 
termined not to remain in Paris. There is 
nothing here to be done. Every thing here 
passes away. My glory is already declining. 

»^». This little corner of Europe is too small to sup- 
ply it. We must go to the East. All the great 
men of the world have there acquired their ce- 
lebrity. We will go to Egypt." 

Such was the grandeur of the dreams of a 
young man who had not yet passed his twenty- 
sixth year. And these were not the musings of 
a wild and visionary brain, but the deeply laid 



A.D. 1797.] Josephine in Italy. 129 



Magnificence of his plans. 



and cautiously guarded plans of a mind which 
had meditated profoundly upon all probable 
emergencies, and which had carefully weighed 
all the means which could be furnished for the 
accomplishment of an enterprise so arduous and 
so majestic. 

I 



130 Josephine. [A.D. 1796. 

Contemplated invasion of England. Expedition to Egypt. 



Chapter VII. 

Josephine at Malmaison. 

F jlHE Directory in Paris became daily more 
-"- and more alarmed, in view of the vast and 
ever-increasing popularity of the conqueror of 
Italy. A plan had been formed for the invasion 
of England, and this was deemed a good oppor- 
tunity for sending from France their dangerous 
rival. Napoleon was appointed commander-in- 
chief of the army of England. He visited the 
coast, and devoted ten days and nights, with 
his extraordinary rapidity of apprehension, in 
investigating the prospects of success. He re- 
turned to Paris, saying, "It is too doubtful a 
chance. I will not hazard on such a throw the 
fate of France." All his energies were then 
turned to his Egyptian expedition. He hoped 
to gain reputation and power in Egypt, pass 
through into India, raise an army of natives, 
headed by European officers and energized by 
an infusion of European soldiers, and thus drive 
the English out of India. It was a bold plan. 
The very grandeur of the enterprise roused the 



A.D.1798.] Josephine at Malmaison. 131 

Hopes of the Directory. Napoleon's dislike of the Revolution. 

enthusiasm of France. The Directory, secretly 
rejoicing at the prospect of sending Napoleon 
so far away, and hoping that he would perish 
on the sands of Africa, without much reluctance 
agreed to his proposal. 

4 Napoleon never loved the Revolution, and he 
most thoroughly detested the infamous and san- 
guinary despotism which had risen upon the 
ruins of the altar and the throne. He chanced 
to be in Paris when the drunken and ragged 
mob, like an inundation, broke into the Tuille- 
ries, and heaped upon the humiliated Louis 
XVI. and Maria Antoinette the most infamous 
outrages. He saw the monarch standing at the 
window of his palace, with the dirty red cap of 
Jacobinism thrust upon, that brow which had 
worn the crown of Charlemagne. At the sight, 
the blood boiled in the veins of the youthful 
Napoleon. He could not endure the spectacle. 
Turning upon his heel, he indignantly exclaim- 
ed, '' The wretches ! had they mown down four 
or five hundred with grape-shot, the rest would 
speedily have taken to flight." 

He often expressed his dislike of the violent 
revolutionary course which the Directory were 
pursuing, and stated freely to his friends, "For 
my part, I declare, that if I had only the option 



132 Josephine. [A.D. 1798. 

Napoleon a Royalist. Sailing of the expedition. 

between royalty and the system of these gen- 
tlemen, I would not hesitate for one moment to 
declare for a king." Just before Napoleon em- 
barked for the East, Bourrienne asked him if 
he was really determined to risk his fate on the 
perilous expedition to Egypt. " Yes !" he re- 
plied. " If I should remain here, it would be 
necessary to overturn this miserable govern- 
ment, and make myself king. But we must 
not think of that yet. The nobles will not con- 
sent to it. I have sounded, but I find the time 
for that has not yet arrived. I must first daz- 
zle these gentlemen by my exploits." 

On the morning of the 19th of May, 1798, 
the fleet set sail from the harbor of Toulon. It 
was a morning of surpassing loveliness, and 
seldom, if ever, has the unclouded sun shone 
upon a more brilliant scene. The magnificent 
armament extended over a semicircle of not less 
than eighteen miles. The fleet consisted of 
thirteen ships of the line, fourteen frigates, and 
four hundred transports. They carried forty 
thousand picked soldiers, and officers of the 
highest celebrity. ♦ For the first time in the 
world, a corps of scientific gentlemen was at- 
tached to a military expedition. One hundred 
eminent artists and connoisseurs Napoleon had 



A.D. 1798.] Josephine at Malmaison. 133 

A corps of satJans. Josephine in Toulon. Plan of Napoleon. 

collected to gather the antiquarian treasures of 
Egypt, and to extend the boundaries of science 
by the observation of the phenomena of nature. 
They formed a part of the staff of the invading 
army. 

Josephine accompanied her husband to Tou- 
lon, and remained with him until his embarka- 
tion. She was extremely anxious to go with 
him to Egypt, and with tears plead that he 
would allow her to share his hardships and his 
perils. Napoleon, however, deemed the haz- 
ards to which they would be exposed, and the 
fatigues and sufferings they must necessarily 
endure, as quite too formidable for Josephine 
to encounter. But in the anguish of their part- 
ing, which is described as most tender, she 
wrung from him a promise to allow her to fol- 
low as soon as affairs in the East should render 
it prudent for her to do so. It can hardly be 
possible, however, that Napoleon ever expected 
to see her in Egypt. He himself has thus de- 
scribed the objects he had in view in this vast 
enterprise : " 1. To establish on the banks of 
the Nile a French colony, which could exist 
without slaves, and supply the place of Saint 
Domingo. 2. To open a market for the man- 
ufactures of France in Africa, Arabia, and 



134 Josephine. [A.D. 1798. 

No obstacle insurmountable. Loneliness of Josephine. 

Syria, and to obtain for the productions of his 
countrymen the productions of those countries. 
3. To set out from Egypt, with an army of sixty 
thousand men, for the Indus, rouse the Mah- 
rattas to a revolt, and excite against the En- 
glish the population of those vast countries. 
Sixty thousand men, half Europeans, half na- 
tives, transported on fifty thousand camels and 
ten thousand horses, carrying with them pro- 
visions for fifty days, water for six, with one 
hundred and fifty pieces of cannon and double 
ammunition, would arrive in four months in 
India. The ocean ceased to be an obstacle 
when vessels were constructed. The desert 
becomes passable the moment you have camels 
and dromedaries in abundance." 

As the fleet got under way, Josephine stood 
upon a balcony, with tearful eyes, gazing upon 
the scene, so imposing, and yet so sorrowful to 
her. The Orient, a ship of enormous magni- 
tude, contained her husband and her son. They 
were going into the midst of dangers from 
whence it was doubtful whether they would 
ever return. She fixed her eyes upon the ship 
as its lessening sails grew fainter and fainter in 
the distance, until the hardly discernible speck 
disappeared beneath the horizon, which the blue 



A.D. 1798.] Josephine at Malmaison. 135 

Residence at Plombieres. Josephine sends for her daughter. 

waves of the Mediterranean outlined. She 
retired to her room with those feelings of lone- 
liness and desolation which the circumstances 
were so peculiarly calculated to inspire. 

It was arranged that Josephine should take 
up her residence, until Napoleon should send 
for her, at Plombieres, a celebrated watering- 
place, whose medicinal springs were supposed 
to be very efficacious in restoring maternity. 
She sent for Hortense, at that time fifteen years 
of age, and who was then in the boarding-school 
of the distinguished Madame Campan. Jose- 
phine wished for her daughter to be her com- 
panion during the weary hours of her absence 
from her husband. She was expecting that, 
as soon as a landing should be effected in Egypt, 
a frigate would be dispatched to convey her to 
the banks of the Nile. She found solace during 
the lingering weeks of expectation in devoting 
herself to the instruction of her daughter. Her 
comprehensive and excellent views on the sub- 
ject of education are developed in a letter which 
she at this time wrote to Madame Campan, to 
accompany a niece who was to return to her 
school : 

"My dear Madame Campan, — With my 
niece, whom I return to your charge, receive 



136 Josephine. [A.D.1798. 



Letter to Madame Campan. 



also my thanks and my reproof. The former 
are due for the great care and brilliant educa- 
tion which you have bestowed upon the child ; 
the latter, for the faults which your sagacity 
must have discovered, but which your indul- 
gence has tolerated. The girl is gentle, but 
shy ; well informed, but haughty ; talented, but 
thoughtless. She does not please, and takes no 
pains to render herself agreeable. She conceives 
that the reputation of her uncle and the bravery 
of her father are every thing. Teach her, and 
that by the most effectual means, how absolute- 
ly unavailing are those qualities which are not 
personal. We live in an age where each is the 
author of his own fortunes ; and if those who 
serve the state in the first ranks ought to have 
some advantages and enjoy some privileges, they 
should, on that account, strive only to render 
themselves more beloved and more useful. It 
is solely by acting thus that they can have some 
chance of excusing their good fortune in the eyes 
of envy. Of these things, my dear Madame 
Campan, you must not allow my niece to re- 
main ignorant; and such are the instructions 
which, in my name, you should repeat to her 
constantly. It is my pleasure that she treat as 
equals every one of her companions, most of 



A.D. 1798.] Josephine at Malmaison. 137 

Napoleon sends a frigate for Josephine. Serious accident. 

whom are better or as good as herself, their 
only inferiority consisting in not having rela- 
tions so able or so fortunate." 

Notwithstanding Napoleon's strong disincli- 
nation to have Josephine join him in Egypt, 
and though in every letter he strongly urged 
her to relinquish the plan, she was so importu- 
nate in her solicitations that he sent the Pomo- 
na frigate to convey her across the Mediterra- 
nean. She was prevented from embarking by 
ar^ accident, which she must have deemed a 
very serious calamity, but which probably saved 
her from years of captivity. She was one morn- 
ing sitting in her saloon, busy with her needle, 
and conversing with several ladies who were her 
companions and intimate friends, when a lady 
who was standing in the balcony called the at- 
tention of the party to a very beautiful dog 
which was passing in the street. All the ladies 
rushed upon the balcony, when, with a fearful 
crash, it broke down, and precipitated them 
upon the pavement. Though no lives were lost, 
several of the party were dreadfully injured. 
Josephine was so severely bruised as to be ut- 
terly helpless, and for some time she was fed 
like an infant. It was several months before 
she was sufficiently recovered to be able to leave 



138 Josephine. [A.D. 1798. 

Capture of the Pomona frigate. Purchase of Malmaison. 

her house. This grievous disappointment, how- 
ever, probably saved her from another, which 
would have been far more severely felt. The 
frigate in which she was to have embarked, had 
it not been for this accident, was captured by 
one of the English cruisers and taken to London. 
« Napoleon went to Egypt because he thought 
it the shortest route to the vacant throne of the 
Bourbons. He despised the rulers who were 
degrading France, and placing a stigma upon 
popular liberty by their ignorance and their Vi- 
olence, and he resolved upon their overthrow. 
Consequently, while guiding the movements of 
his army upon the banks of the Nile, his atten- 
tion was continually directed to Paris. He 
wrote to Josephine that he intended ere long to 
return, and directed her to purchase a pleasant 
country seat somewhere in the vicinity of Paris. 
About ten miles from the metropolis and five 
miles from Versailles there was a beautiful 
chateau, most charmingly situated, called Mal- 
maison. This estate Josephine purchased, great- 
ly enlarging the grounds, at an expense of about 
one hundred thousand dollars. This lovely re- 
treat possessed unfailing rural attraction for a 
mind formed, like that of Josephine, for the rich 
appreciation of all that is lovely in the aspects 



A.D. 1799.] Josephine at Malmaison. 139 

Josephine removes thither. Espionage of Napoleon. 

of nature. Napoleon was delighted with the 
purchase, and expended subsequently incredible 
sums in repairs and enlargements, and in em- 
bellishments of statues, paintings, and furni- 
ture. This was ever the favorite residence of 
Napoleon and Josephine. 

As the leaves of autumn began to fall, Jose- 
phine, who had been slowly recovering from the 
effects of the accident, left Plombieres and took 
up her residence at Malmaison. Napoleon was 
absent in Egypt about eighteen months. Dur- 
ing the winter and the ensuing summer, Jose- 
phine remained with Hortense, and several 
other ladies, who composed her most agreeable 
household, in this beautiful retreat. The celeb- 
rity of Napoleon surrounded them with friends, 
and that elegant mansion was the resort of the 
most illustrious in rank and intellect.' Napo- 
leon, who had ever a spice of jealousy in his 
nature, had every thing reported to him which 
occurred at Malmaison. He was informed re- 
specting all the guests who visited the chateau, 
and of the conversation which passed in every 
interview. 

Hortense was a lively girl of fifteen, and the 
time hung rather heavily upon her hands. She 
amused herself in playing all manner of pranks 



140 Josephine. [ A.D. 1799. 

Playfulness of Hortense. Carrat. The apparition. 

upon a very singular valet de chambre, by the 
name of Carrat, whom her mother had brought 
from Italy. This man was very timid and ec- 
centric, but, with most enthusiastic devotion, 
attached to the service of Josephine. 

One evening Carrat received orders to attend 
Madame Bonaparte and several ladies who 
were with her in their twilight walk through 
the magnificent park belonging to the estate. 
Carrat, ever delighted with an opportunity to 
display his attachment to his kind mistress, 
obeyed with great alacrity. No ladies in peril 
could desire a more valiant knight-errant than 
the vaunting little Italian assumed to be. They 
had not advanced far into the somber shadows 
of the grove when they saw, solemnly emerging 
from the obscurity, a tall specter in its wind- 
ing-sheet. The fearful apparition approached 
the party, when the valet, terrified beyond all 
power of self-control, and uttering the most 
fearful shrieks, abandoned the ladies to the ten- 
der mercies of the ghost, and fled. The phan- 
tom, with its white drapery fluttering in the 
wind, pursued him. Soon the steps of the af- 
frighted valet began to falter, and he dropped 
upon the ground, insensible, in a fit. Hortense, 
who had been perfectly convulsed with laugh- 



A.D.1799.] Josephine at Malmaison. 141 

Horteuse a tormentor. A shower-bath in embryo. 

ter in view of the triumphant success of her 
experiment, was now correspondingly alarmed. 
The ghost was a fellow-servant of Carrat, who 
had been dressed out under the superintendence 
of the mischievous Hortense. 

As the poor man rqcovered without any se- 
rious injury and without the slightest diminu- 
tion of his excessive vanity, the fun-loving Hor- 
tense could not repress her propensity still to 
make him the butt of her practical jokes. It 
was a defect in her character that she could find 
pleasure in this mischievous kind of torment. 
It is not improbable that this trait of character, 
which appears so excusable in a mirthful girl 
of fifteen, was the cause of that incessant train 
of sorrows which subsequently embittered her 
whole life. Carrat was perfectly devoted to Jo- 
sephine ; Hortense was his torment. 

The unlucky valet occupied a sleeping-room 
separated from another only by a thin deal par- 
tition. A hole was made through this, and a 
pail of water so suspended in equilibrium over 
the pillow of the victim, that by drawing a cord 
the whole contents would be emptied upon his 
head. The supports of the bedstead had also 
been removed, so that the whole fabric would 
fall as soon as any weight was placed upon it. 



142 Josephine. [A.D. 1799. 

Fruits of loving darkness rather than light. Murder 1 fire I 

Carrat, among his other eccentricities, was evei 
in the habit of going to bed without a light. 
Matters being thus prepared, Hortense, who had 
employed an attendant to aid her in her plans, 
stood in an adjoining room to enjoy the catas- 
trophe. ^ 

The poor man entered his room, and threw 
himself upon his pallet. Down it came with a 
crash, and his shriek of fright was for a moment 
drowned in the inundation of water. Hortense, 
knowing the almost delirious fear which the pu- 
erile valet had of reptiles, cried, " Poor man ! 
poor man ! what will he do. The water was full 
of toads." Carrat, in utter darkness, drench- 
ed with cold water, and overwhelmed in the 
ruins of his bed and bedding, shrieked, '' Mur- 
der! help! fire! drowning!" while Hortense 
and her accomplices enjoyed his ludicrous terror. 
She afterward made him a handsome present 
as a compensation. Hortense was not a mali- 
cious girl, but, like many others who are mirth- 
ful and thoughtless, she found a strange pleas- 
ure in teasing. Josephine's only happiness was 
in making others happy. " It is a necessity of 
my heart," she said, ''to love those around me, 
and to be loved by them in return." How much 
more noble such a spirit ! 



A.D. 1799.] Josephine atMalmaison. 143 

Josephine's zeal for her husband. Letter to an emigrant 

Though Josephine was not fully informed re- 
specting the ultimate designs of Napoleon, and 
though Napoleon at this time probably had no 
very definite plans respecting his future actions, 
his interests manifestly required that she should 
exert all her powers to strengthen the ties of 
those who were already his friends, and to gain 
others to his rising name. Josephine acquired 
great influence over many members of the Di- 
rectory, and this influence she was continually 
exerting for the relief of those who were in dis- 
tress. Many of the proscribed emigrants were 
indebted to her for liberty and the restoration 
of their forfeited estates. The following letter 
from Josephine to an emigrant, whose fortune, 
and perhaps life, she had saved, exhibits her in- 
tellectual elevation as well as the amiability of 
her heart. 

"Sir, — Your petition, which reached Mal- 
raaison on the 12th, was presented the same 
evening, and by myself, to Citizen Barras. I 
have the pleasure to announce to you that the 
decision is favorable, and that now, erased from 
the fatal list, you are restored to all the rights of 
a French citizen. But in transmitting a com- 
munication not less agreeable to me than to 
yourself, permit me to enhance its value by re- 



144 Josephine. [A.D. 1799. 

Remarks of Barras. Good advice oflFered. 

peating to you the exact words with which it 
was accompanied by the Director. 'I have 
usually little to deny you, madame,' said he, 
presenting me with a sealed inclosure contain- 
ing the act of restoration, ' and certainly, when 
humanity is concerned, I can have far less ob- 
jection. But pity for misfortune does not ex- 
clude justice, and justice is inseparable from the 
love of truth. As unfortunate, M. de Sansal 
merits commiseration. As an emigrant, he has 
right to none. I will say more ; had I been dis- 
posed to be severe, there existed a cause for 
stern reprisals on the part of a government to 
whose kindness he replies by insults. Although 
I despise those of such a man, 1 appreciate them. 
They prove an ungrateful heart and a narrow 
mind. Let him be careful about expressing 
his hatred. All my colleagues are not equally 
indulgent.' 

" Blame only yourself, sir, for the small share 
of amenity in these counsels. They are harsh, 
perhaps, but useful; and you will do well to 
render them effective. Regard, also, the faith- 
fulness with which I transcribe them as a proof 
of the deep interest I take in your welfare, and 
of my anxiety that the interference of your 
friends may be justified by your future conduct." 



A.D.1799.] Josephine at Malmaison. 145 

Correspondence intercepted. False charges against Josephine. 

For some time a very constant correspond- 
ence was kept up between Napoleon and Jose- 
phine, but after the destruction of the French 
fleet by Lord Nelson in the Bay of Aboukir, and 
when the Mediterranean had become completely 
blocked up by English cruisers, almost every 
letter was intercepted. 

For political purposes, there were many who 
wished to destroy the influence which Jose- 
phine had acquired over the mind of her illus- 
trious husband. In the accomplishment of this 
plan, they endeavored, in every way in their 
power, to excite the jealousy of Napoleon. The 
very efforts which Josephine was making to at- 
tract the most influential men in Paris to her 
saloon were represented to him as indications 
of levity of character, and of a spirit of unpar- 
donable coquetry. The enemies of Josephine 
had their influential agents in the camp of 
Napoleon, and with malice, never weary, they 
whispered these suspicions into his ear. The 
jealousy of his impassioned nature was strongly 
aroused. In his indignation, he wrote to Jo- 
sephine in terms of great severity, accusing her 
of " playing the coquette with all the world." 
She was very deeply wounded by these unjust 
suspicions, and wrote to him a letter in reply, 
K 



146 Josephine. fA.D.l799. 



Napoleon's confidence impaired. Employments of Josephine. 

which, for tenderness and delicacy of sentiment, 
and the expression of conscious innocence, is 
hardly surpassed by any thing which has ever 
been written. Her letter was intercepted, and 
Napoleon never saw it. For many months near- 
ly all communication with the army of Egypt 
was cut off by the vigilance of the English. 
There were flying reports ever reaching the ear 
of Josephine of disaster to the army, and even 
of the death of Napoleon. Josephine was at 
times in great distress. She knew not the fate 
of her husband or her son. She knew that, by 
the grossest deception, her husband's confidence 
in her had been greatly impaired, and she feared 
that, should he return, she might never be able 
to regain his affections. Still, she devoted her- 
self with unwearied diligence in watching over 
all his interests, and though her heart was often 
oppressed with anguish, she did every thing in 
her power to retain the aspect of cheerfulness 
and of sanguine hope. One of her favorite 
amusements — the favorite amusement of almost 
every refined mind — was found in the cultiva^ 
tion of flowers. She passed a portion of every 
pleasant day with Hortense among the flower- 
beds, with the hoe, and the watering-pot, andi 
the pruning-knife. Hortense, though she lovedl 






A.D.1799.] Josephine at Malmaison. 147 

She visits the poor. She comforts the afflicted. 

the society of her mother, was not fond of these 
employments, and in subsequent life she never 
turned to them for a solace. With Josephine, 
however, this taste remained unchanged through 
life. She was also very fond of leaving the aris- 
tocratic walks of- Malmaison, and sauntering 
through the lanes and the rural roads, where she 
could enter the cottages of the peasants, and 
listen to their simple tales of joy and grief. To 
many of these dwellfngs her visit was as the 
mission of an angel. Her purse was never 
closed against the wants of penury. But that 
which rendered her still more a ministering 
spirit to the poor was that her heart was ever 
open, with its full flood of sympathy, to share 
the grief of their bereavements, and to rejoice 
in their joy. When she sat upon the throne 
of France, and even long after she sank into 
the repose of the grave, the region around Mal- 
maison was full of recitals of her benevolence. 
Aristocratic pride at times affected to look down 
with contempt upon the elevated enjoyments of 
a noble heart. 

Thus occupied in pleading with those in 
power for those of illustrious birth who had, by 
emigration, forfeited both property and life ; in 
visiting the sick and the sorrowing in the hum- 



148 Josephine. [A.D. 1799. 



Benevolence of Josephine's heart. 



ble cottages around her; in presiding with 
queenly dignity over the brilliant soirees in her 
own saloons, where talent and rank were ever 
assembled, and in diffusing the sunlight of her 
own cheerful heart throughout the whole house- 
hold at Malmaison, Josephine, through weary 
months, awaited tidings from her absent hus- 
band. 



A.D.1799.] Wife OF First Consul. 149 

Deplorable condition of France. The "pear" now ripe. 



Chapter VIIL 

Josephine the Wife of the First 
Consul. 

fllHE winter of 1799 opened upon France in 
-■- the deepest gloom. The French were wea- 
ry of the horrors of the Revolution. All busi- 
ness was at a stand. The poor had neither 
employment nor bread. Starvation reigned in 
the capital. The Austrians had again entered 
Italy, and beaten the French at almost every 
point. No tidings were received from Bona- 
parte and the army in Egypt. Rumors of the 
death of Napoleon and of a disastrous state of 
the enterprise filled the city. The government 
at Paris, composed of men who had emerged 
from obscurity in the storms of revolution, was 
imbecile and tyrannical in the extreme. The 
nation was weary beyond endurance of the strife 
of contending factions, and ardently desired 
some strong arm to be extended for the restora- 
tion of order, and for the establishment of an 
efficient and reputable government. " The 
pear was ripe." 



150 J o s E p H I N E. [A.D. 1799. 



Evening party. Landing of Napoleon at Frejus. 



On the evening of the 9th of November, a 
large and very brilliant party was assembled in 
Paris at the house of M. Gohier, president of 
the Directory. The company included all the 
most distinguished persons then resident in the 
metropolis. Josephine, being in Paris at that 
time, was one of the guests. About midnight, 
the gentlemen and ladies were gathering around 
a supper table very sumptuously spread, when 
they were startled by a telegraphic announce- 
ment, communicated to their host, that Bona- 
parte had landed that morning at Frejus, a 
small town upon the Mediterranean shore. The 
announcement created the most profound sen- 
sation. All knew that Napoleon had not re- 
turned at that critical moment without an ob- 
ject. Many were pale with apprehension, con- 
scious that his popularity with the army would 
enable him to Wrest from them their ill-gotten 
power. Others were elated with hope. Yet 
universal embarrassment prevailed. None dared 
to express their thoughts. No efforts could re- 
vive the conviviality of the evening, and the 
party soon dispersed. 

Josephine, with the deepest emotion, hast- 
ened home, immediately summoned her car- 
riage, and, taking with her Hortense and Louis 



A.D.1799.] Wife of First Consul. 151 

Josephine hastens to meet him. They cross each other's path. 

Bonaparte, set out, without allowing an hour 
for repose, to meet her husband. She was very 
anxious to have an interview with him before 
her enemies should have an opportunity to fill 
his mind with new accusations against her. 
The most direct route from Paris to Frejus 
passes through the city of Lyons. There is 
another and more retired route, not frequently 
traveled, but which Napoleon, for some un- 
known reason, took. It was a long journey of 
weary, weary leagues, over hills and plains. Jo- 
sephine alighted not for refreshment or slum- 
ber, but with fresh relays of horses, night and 
day, pressed on to meet her spouse. When she 
arrived at Lyons, to her utter consternation, she 
heard that Napoleon had taken the other route, 
and, some forty-eight hours before, had passed 
her on the way to Paris. No words can describe 
the anguish which these tidings caused her. Her 
husband would arrive in Paris and find her ab- 
sent.^ He would immediately be surrounded 
by those who would try to feed his jealousy. 
Two or three days must elapse ere she could 
possibly retrace her steps. Napoleon arrived in 
Paris the 10th of November. It was not until 
nearly midnight of the 13th that Josephine re- 
turned. Worn out with the fatigues of travel- 



152 Josephine. [A.D. 1799. 

Josephine's enemies succeed in rousing the anger of Napoleon. 

ing, of anxiety, and of watching, she drove with 
a heavy heart to their house in the Rue Chan- 
tereine. 

* The enemies whom Josephine had most to 
fear were the brothers and the sisters-in-law of 
Napoleon. They were entirely dependent upon 
their illustrious brother for their own advance- 
ment in life, and were exceedingly jealous of 
the influence which Josephine had exerted over 
his mind. They feared that she would gain an 
exclusive empire where they wished also to 
reign. Taking advantage of Josephine's ab- 
sence, they had succeeded in rousing Napoleon's 
indignation to the highest pitch. They accused 
her of levity, of extravagance, of forgetfulness 
of him, and of ever playing the coquette with 
all the debauchees of Paris. Napoleon, stimu- 
lated by that pride which led the Roman em- 
i peror to say, " Caesar's, wife must not be sus- 
pected," threatened loudly "divorce — open and 
public divorce." Said one maliciously to him, 
" She will appear before you with all her fasci- 
nations, explain matters; you will forgive all, 
and tranquillity will be restored." "Never! 
never !" exclaimed the irritated general, strid- 
ing to and fro through the room. " I forgive ! 
never ! You know me. Were I not sure of 



A.D.1799.] Wife of First Consul. 153 

Meeting of Josephine and Eugene. She is repulsed by Napoleon. 

my resolution, I would pluck out this heart and 
cast it into the fire." 

Such was the mood of mind in which Napo- 
leon was prepared to receive Josephine, after an 
absence of eighteen months. Josephine and 
Hortense alighted in the court-yard, and were 
immediately enfolded in the embraces of Eu- 
gene, who was anxiously awaiting their arrival. 
With trembling steps and a throbbing heart, 
Josephine, accompanied by her son and daugh- 
ter, ascended the stairs to a small circular fam- 
ily room where they expected to find Napoleon. 
He was there with his brother Joseph. As his 
wife and her children entered the room, Napo- 
leon glanced sternly at them, and instantly said 
to Josephine, in a severe and commanding tone, 
almost before she had crossed the threshold, 

" Madame ! it is my wish that you retire im- 
mediately to Malmaison." 

Josephine came near falling lifeless upon the 
floor. She was caught in the arms of Eugene, 
who, in the most profound grief, had kept near 
the side of his revered and beloved mother. He 
supported her fainting steps, as, sobbing with 
anguish, she silently retired to her apartment. 
Napoleon, greatly agitated, traversed the room 
with hasty strides. The sight of Josephine had 



154 Josephine. [A.D. 1799. 

Josephine's prompt obedience. Napoleon relents. 

rekindled all his love, and he was struggling 
with desperate efforts to cherish his sense of 
wrong, and to fortify himself against any return 
of clemency. 

In a few moments, Josephine and Hortense, 
with Eugene, were heard descending the stairs 
to leave the house. It was midnight. For a 
week Josephine had lived in her carriage almost 
without food or sleep. Nothing but intensity 
of excitement had prevented her from sinking 
down in utter weariness and exhaustion. It 
was a drive of thirty miles to Malmaison. Na- 
poleon was not prepared for such prompt obe- 
dience. Even his stern heart could not resist 
its instinctive pleadings for his wife and her 
daughter. He hastened from his room, and, 
though his pride would not allow him directly 
to urge Josephine to remain, he insisted upon 
Eugene's returning, and urged it in such a way 
that he came back, leading with him his mother 
and his sister. Napoleon, however, addressed 
not a word to either of them. Josephine threw 
herself upon a couch in her apartment, and Na- 
poleon, in gloomy silence, entered his cabinet. 
* Two days of wretchedness passed away, during 
which njo intercourse took place between the 
estranged parties. But the anger of the hus- 



A.D.1799.] Wife of First Consul. 157 

The reconciliation. Napoleon vanquished. 

band was gradually subsiding. Love for Jose- 
phine was slowly gaining strength in his heart. 
On the third day, his pride and passion were 
sufficiently subdued to allow him to enter the 
apartment where Josephine and Hortense had 
kept themselves secluded, awaiting his pleasure. 
Josephine was seated at a toilet table, with her 
face buried in her hands, and absorbed in the 
profoundest grief On the table were exposed 
the letters which she had received from Napo- 
leon during his absence, and which she had ev- 
idently been reading. Hortense was standing 
silently and pensively in an alcove by the win- 
dow, half concealed by the curtain. Napoleon 
advanced with an irresolute step, hesitated for 
a moment, and then said, "Josephine!" She 
started up at the sound of that well-known 
voice, and, her beautiful countenance all suf- 
fused with tears, mournfully exclaimed, ^^ Mo7i 
ami,^[ in that peculiar tone, so pathetic, so mu- 
sical, which ever thrilled upon the heart of Na- 
poleon. " My friend" was the to^jcn^of endear- 
ment with which she invariably addressed her 
husband. Napoleon was vanquished, ^^^e ex- 
tended his hand to his deeply- wrongeaw^.^ 
She threw herself into his arms, pillowed hetf^ 
aching head upon his bosom, and in the fullness 



158 Josephine. [A.D.1799. 



Reception of Napoleon on his return to France. 

of blended joy and anguish wept convulsively. 
An explanation of several hours ensued. Every 
shade of suspicion was obliterated from his mind. 
*He received Josephine again to his entire con- 
fidence, and this confidence was never again in- 
terrupted. 

When Napoleon landed at Frejus, he was re- 
ceived with the most enthusiastic demonstra- 
tion of delight. There was a universal im- 
pression that the hero of Italy, the conqueror 
of Egypt, had returned thus unexpectedly to 
France for the accomplishment of some mag- 
nificent enterprise ; yet no one knew what to 
anticipate. The moment the frigate dropped 
anchor in the bay, and it was announced that 
Napoleon was on board, thousands surrounded 
the vessel in boats, and the air was filled with 
enthusiastic acclamations. His journey to Paris 
was one continued scene of triumph. Crowds 
gathered around him at every stopping-place, 
intoxicated with joy. The bells rang their 
merriest peals ; the booming of cannon echoed 
along the hill sides, and brilliant bonfires by 
night blazed upon every eminence. Upon his 
arrival in Paris, the soldiers, recognizing their 
leader in so many brilliant victories, greeted 
him with indescribable enthusiasm, and cries 



A.D.1799.] AViFE OF First Consul. 159 

He overthrows the Directory. He is sustained by the people. 

of "Vive Bonaparte I" resounded through the 
metropolis. His saloon, ever thronged with 
generals and statesmen, and all who were most 
illustrious in intellect and rank, resembled the 
court of a monarch. Even the most prominent 
men in the Directory, disgusted with the prog- 
ress of measures which they could not control, 
urged him to grasp the reins of power, assuring 
him that there was no hope for France but in 
his strong arm. In less than four weeks from 
his arrival in Paris, the execrated government 
was overturned. Napoleon, Sieyes, and Ducos 
were appointed consuls, and twenty-five mem- 
bers were appointed from each of the councils 
to unite with the consuls in forming a new Con- 
stitution. One unanimous voice of approval 
rose from all parts of France in view of this 
change. No political movement could take 
place more strongly confirmed by the popular 
will. Napoleon hastened from the scenes of 
peril and agitation through which he had passed 
in the accomplishment of this change, that he 
might be the first to announce to Josephine the 
political victory he had achieved. 

During the perilous day, when, in the midst 
of outcries, daggers, and drawn swords, he had 
been contending with the Council of the Five 



160 Josephine. [A.D.1799. 

Painful suspense of Josephine. Napoleon relieves it. 

Hundred, lie could find not even one moment 
to dispatch a note from St. Cloud to his wife. 
The previous day he had kept her constantly 
informed of the progress of events. Josephine 
remained throughout the whole of the 19th of 
November, from morning until evening, without 
sight or tidings of her husband. She knew that, 
in the fierce strife of parties in France, there 
was no safety for life ; and when the darkness 
of night settled down around her, and still no 
word from her Napoleon, her anxiety amounted 
almost to distraction. The rumbling of every 
carriage upon the pavement — every noise in the 
streets aroused her hopes or her fears. Worn 
out with anxiety, at midnight she threw herself 
upon her bed, but not to sleep. Several weary 
hours of suspense lingered slowly along, when, 
at four o'clock in the morning, she heard the 
well-known footsteps of her husband upon the 
stairs. 

She sprang to meet him. He fondly clasped 
her in his arms, and assured her that he had 
not spoken to a single individual since he had 
taken the oaths of office, that the voice of his 
^Josephine might be the first to congratulate him 
upon his virtual accession to ;;he empire of 
France. An animated conversation ensued. 



A.D.1800.] Wife of First Consul. 161 

His usurping ambition. Remark of the Abb6 Sieyes. 

and then Napoleon, throwing himself upon his 
couch for a few moments' repose, gayly said, 
" Good night, my Josephine ! to-morrow we 
sleep in the Luxembourg." 

The next day the three consuls met in Paris. 
His colleagues, however, immediately perceived 
that the towering ambition of Napoleon would 
brook no rival. He showed them the absurdity 
of their plans, and compelled them to assent to 
the superior wisdom of his own. The untiring 
vigor of his mind, the boldness and energy of 
his thoughts, and his intuitive and almost mi- 
raculous familiarity with every branch of polit- 
ical science, overawed his associates, and the 
whole power passed, with hardly the slightest 
resistance, into his own hands. Immediately 
after their first interview, the Abbe Sieyes, who 
combined great weakness with extensive knowl- 
edge, remarked to Talleyrand and others, '' Gen- 
tlemen, I perceive that we have got a master. 
Bonaparte can do and will do every thing him- 
self. But," he continued, after a pause, "it is 
better to submit than to protract dissensions 
forever." 

In this most astonishing revolution, thus sud- 
denly accomplisb3d, and without the shedding 
of a drop of blood, Napoleon was much indebted 



162 JosEPHixNE. [A.D.1800. 

Josephine secures friends to Napoleon. Residence at the Luxembourg. 

to the influence which his wife had exerted in 
his behalf during his absence in Egypt. The 
dinners she had given, the guests the had en- 
tertained in her saloons evening after evening, 
consisting of the most distinguished scholars, 
and statesmen, and generals in the metropolis, 

' had contributed greatly to the popularity of her 
husband, and had surrounded him with devoted 
friends. Napoleon ever acknowledged his obli- 
gations to Josephine for the essential service 
she had thus rendered him. 

The next morning Napoleon and Josephine 
removed from their elegant yet comparatively 
plebeian residence in the Rue Chantereine to 
the palace of the Luxembourg. This, however, 

« was but the stepping-stone to the Tuilleries, 
the world-renowned abode of the monarchs of 
France. They remained for two months at the 
Luxembourg. The energies of Napoleon were 
employed every moment in promoting changes 
in the internal affairs ^ of France, which even 
his bitterest enemies admit were marked with 
the most eminent wisdom and benevolence. 
During the two months of their residence at 
the Luxembourg, no domestic event of import- 
ance occurred, except the marriage of Murat 
with Caroline, the sister of Napoleon. Caroline 



A.D. 1800.] Wife OF First Consul. 163- 

Marriage of Murat and Caroline. The Tuilleries refurnished. 

was exceedingly beautiful. Murat was one of 
the favorite aids of Bonaparte. Their nuptials 
were celebrated with great splendor, and the gay 
Parisians began again to be amused with some- 
thing like the glitter of royalty. 

Each day Napoleon became more popular 
and his power more firmly established. Soon 
all France was prepared to see the first consul 
take up his residence in the ancient apartments 
of the kings of France. The Tuilleries had 
been sacked again and again by the mob. The 
gorgeous furniture, the rich paintings, and all 
the voluptuous elegajice which the wealth of 
Louis XIV. could create, had been thrown into 
the court-yard and consumed by the infuriated 
populace. Royalty itself had been pursued and 
insulted in its most sacred retreats. 

By slow and cautious advances. Napoleon 
refurnished these magnificent saloons. The 
emblems of Jacobin misrule were silently ef- 
faced. Statues of Brutus and Washington, of 
Demosthenes, and of others renowned for illus- 
trious deeds, were placed in the vacant niches, 
and the Tuilleries again appeared resplendent 
as in the days of pristine pride and power. 

On the morning of the 19th of February, 
1800, all Paris was in commotion to witness 



164 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Napoleon and Josephine take up their residence in the Tuilleries. 

tlie transfer of the embryo court of the first 
consul and his colleagues from the Luxembourg 

^to the Tuilleries. Already the colleagues of 
Napoleon had become so entirely eclipsed by 
the superior brilliance of their imperious asso- 
ciate that their names were almost forgotten. 
The royal apartments were prepared for Napo- 
leon, while those in the Pavilion of Flora were 
assigned to the two other consuls. The three 
consuls entered a magnificent carriage, drawn 
by six white horses. A gorgeous train of offi- 
cers, with six thousand picked troops in the 
richest uniform, surrounded the cortege. Many 
of the long-abolished usages of royalty were 
renewed upon that day. Twenty thousand 
soldiers, in most imposing military array, were 
drawn up before the palace. The moment the 
carriage appeared, the very heavens seemed 
rent with their cries, " Vive le premier consul !" 
The two associate consuls were ciphers. They 
sat at his side as pages to embellish his triumph. 

f This day placed Napoleon in reality upon the 
throne of France, and Josephine that evening 
moved, a queen, in the apartments hallowed 
by the beauty and the sufferings of Maria An- 
toinette. 

The suite of rooms appropriated to the wife 



A.D. 1800.] Wife of First Consul. 165 

Apartments of Josephine. Her drees. Her social triumph. 

of the first consul consisted of two magnificent 
saloons, with private apartments adjoining. No 
French monarch ever sauntered through a more 
dazzling scene than that which graced the draw- 
ing-rooms of Josephine on this occasion. Em- 
bassadors from nearly all the courts of Europe 
were present. The army contributed its ut- 
most display of rank and military pomp to em- 
bellish the triumph of its most successful gen- 
eral. And the metropolis contributed all that 
it still retained of brilliance in ancestral renown 
or in intellectual achievement. 

When Josephine entered the gorgeously-illu- 
minated apartments of the palace, leaning upon 
the arm of Talleyrand, and dressed in the ele- 
gance of the most perfect simplicity, a murmur 
of admiration arose from the whole assembly. 
She was attired in a robe of white muslin. Her 
hair fell in graceful ringlets upon her neck and 
shoulders. A necklace of pearls of great value 
completed her costume. The queenly elegance 
of her figure, the inimitable grace of her move- 
ments, the peculiar conversational tact she pos- 
sessed, and the melody of a voice which, once 
heard, never was forgotten, gave to Josephine, 
on this eventful evening, a social triumph cor- 
responding with that which Napoleon had re- 



166 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Josephine the Queen of Hearts. Her varied accomplishments. 

ceived during the day. She entered the rooms 
to welcome her guests before her husband. As 
she made the tour of the apartments, supported 
by the minister, whose commanding figure tow- 
ered above all the rest, she was first introduced 
to the foreign embassadors, and then to others 
of distinguished name and note. "Napoleon 
wins battles, but Josephine wins hearts." This 
was the all-appropriate theater for the triumph 
of Josephine. Here she was entirely at home. 
Instinct taught her every thing that was grace- 
ful and pleasing. Etiquette, that stern tyrant 
so necessary for the control of common minds, 
was compelled to bow in subjection to Jose- 
phine, for her actions became a higher law. In 
the exuberance of benevolent joy, she floated 
through this brilliant scene, wherever she ap- 
peared exciting admiration, though she sought 
only to diffuse enjoyment. 
f Josephine was now about thirty-three years 
of age, and while in personal charms she re- 
tained all the fascination of more youthful years, 
her mind, elevated and ennobled by reverses and 
sufferings most magnanimously borne, and cul- 
tivated by the daily exercise of its rich endow- 
ments, enabled her to pass from the circles of 
fashion to the circles of science, from those who 



'no« 

J 



A.D.1800.] Wife of First Consul. 167 

Symmetry of her form. Attractiveness of her conversation. 

thought only of the accomplishments of the per- 
son to those who dwelt m the loftiest regions 
of the intellect, and to be equally admired by 
both. 

* Her figure appears to have been molded into 
the absolute perfection of the female frame, nei- 
ther too large for the utmost delicacy of femi- 
nine beauty, nor too small for queenly dignity. 
The exquisite symmetry of her form and the 
elasticity of her step gave an etherial aspect to 
her movements. Her features, of Grecian out- 
line, were finely modeled, und through them all 
the varying emotions of the soul were unceas- 
ingly beaming. * No one probably ever possessed 
in a higher degree this resistless charm of femi- 
nine loveliness. Her eyes were of a deep blue, 
and possessed a winning tenderness of expres- 
sion when reposing upon those she loved which 
could not be resisted. Napoleon, even when 
most agitated by the conflicts of his stormy life, 
was speedily subdued by the tranquilizing pow- 
er of her looks of love. But the tone and mod- 
ulations of her voice in conversation constituted 
the most remarkable attraction of this most at- 
tractive woman. No one could listen to her 
sparkling, flowing, musical words without feel- 
ing the fascination of their strange melody. 



168 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Sweetness of Josephine's voice. Attractions of Malmaison. 

. " The first applauses of the French people," 
says Napoleon, " fell upon my ear sweet as the 
voice of Josephine." 

The rural charms of Malmaison, however, 
exerted a more powerful sway over both the first 
consul and his companion than the more splen- 
did attractions of the Tuilleries. The Revolu- 
tionary government had abolished the Sabbath, 
and appointed every tenth day for rest and rec- 
reation. Napoleon and Josephine habitually 
spent this day at Malmaison. There, in the 
retirement of green fields and luxuriant groves, 
surrounded by those scenes of nature which had 
peculiar charms for them both, they found that 
quiet happiness which is in vain sought amid 
the turmoil of the camp or the splendor of the 
court. Josephine, in particular, here found her 
most serene and joyous hours. She regretted 
the high ambition of her husband, while, at the 
same time, she felt a wife's pride and gratifica- 
tion in view of the honors which were so pro- 
fusely heaped upon him. It delighted her to 
see him here lay aside the cares of state, and 
enjoy with her the unostentatious pleasures of 
the flower-garden and the farm -yard. And 
when the hour came for them to return from 
their rural villa to their city palace. Napoleon 



J 



A.D. 1800.] Wife of First Consul. 169 

The dangers of greatnese. Josephine's anxiety and care, 

often said, with a sigh, " Now it is necessary 
for us to go and put on again the yoke of mis- 
ery." 

The dangers of greatness soon began to hov- 
er around the path of the first consul. Jose- 
phine was continually alarmed with rumors of 
conspiracies and plots of assassination. The 
utter indifference of Napoleon to all such perils, 
and his entire disregard of all precautionary 
measures, only increased the anxiety of his wife. 
The road leading from Paris to Malmaison 
wound through a wild district, then but thinly 
inhabited, and which presented many facilities 
for deeds of violence. Whenever Napoleon was 
about to traverse this road, Josephine sent the 
servants of their private establishment to scru- 
tinize all its lurking-places where any foes 
might be concealed. Napoleon, though grati- 
fied by this kind care, often amused and good- 
naturedly teased Josephine with most ludicrous 
accounts of the perils and hair-breadth escapes 
which he had encountered. She also had large 
and powerful dogs trained to guard the grounds 
of Malmaison from any intrusion by night. 

On the evening of the day when Napoleon 
made his entry into the Tuilleries, he remarked 
to Bourrienne, "It is not enough to be in the 



170 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Remark of Napoleon to Bourrienne. 

Tuilleries, we must take measures to remain 
there. Who has not inhabited this palace ? It 
has been the abode of robbers — of the Conven- 
tion. There is your brother's house, from which, 
eight years ago, we saw the good Louis XVI. 
besieged in the Tuilleries and carried off into 
captivity. But you need not fear a repetition 
of the scene. Let them attempt it with me if 
they dareP To all the cautions of his anxious 
wife respecting assassination, he ever quietly 
replied, <' My dear Josephine, they dare not 
do it." 



A.D. 1800.] Character developed. 171 

Second Italian campaign. Its brilliant results. 



Chapter IX. 

Developments of Character. 

TOURING Napoleon's absence in Egypt the 
■^^ Austrians had again invaded Italy. The 
French troops had been beaten in many bat- 
tles, and driven from vast extents of territory, 
over which Napoleon had caused the flag of the 
Republic to float in triumph. The first consul 
having, v^^ith almost superhuman energy, ar- 
ranged the internal affairs of his government, 
now turned his thoughts toward the defeated 
armies of France, which had been driven back 
into the fastnesses of the Alps. " I must go," 
said he, " my dear Josephine. But I will not 
forget you, and I will not be absent long." He 
bade adieu to his wife at the Tuilleries on the 
7th of May, 1800. At midnight of the 2d of 
July he returned, having been absent less than 
two months. In that brief period he drove the 
Austrians from all their strongholds, regained 
Italy, and by a campaign more brilliant than 
any other which history has ever recorded, add- 
ed immeasurably to his own moral power. 
These astonishing victories excited the Paris- 



172 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Napoleon's desire to leave a name. A faithful correspondent 

ians to a delirium of joy. Night after night the 
streets were illuminated, and whenever Napo- 
leon appeared, crowds thronged him, filling the 
air with their acclamations. These triumphs, 
however, instead of satisfying Napoleon, did but 
add fuel to his all-absorbing ambition. " A few 
more great events," said he, " like those of this 
campaign, and I may really descend to posteri- 
ty. But still it is little enough. I have con- 
quered, it is true, in less than two years, Cairo, 
Paris, Milan. But, were I to die to-morrow, 
half a page of general history would, after ten 
centuries, be all that would be devoted to my 
exploits." 

During his absence Josephine passed her 
time at Malm-aison. And it surely is indica- 
tive not only of the depth of Napoleon's love for 
Josephine, but also of his appreciation of those 
delicate attentions which could touch the heart 
of a loving wife, that in this busiest of cam- 
paigns, in which, by day and by night, he was 
upon the horse's back, with hardly one moment 
allowed for refreshment or repose, rarely did a 
single day pass in which he did not transmit 
some token of affection to Malmaison. Jose- 
phine daily watched, with the most intense in- 
terest, the arrival of the courier with the brief 



A.D. 1800.] Character developed. 173 

Delicate attentions of Napoleon to Josephine. Her pastimes. 

and almost illegible note from her husband. 
Sometimes the blurred and blotted lines were 
hastily written upon horseback, with the pom- 
mel of his saddle for his writing-desk. Some- 
times they were written, at his dictation, by 
his secretary, upon a drum-head, on the field 
of carnage, when the mangled bodies of the dy- 
ing and the dead were strewed all around him, 
and the thunders of the retreating battle were 
* still echoing over the plains. These delicate 
attentions to his wife exhibit a noble trait in 
the character of Napoleon. And she must have 
been indeed a noble woman who could have in- 
spired such a mind with esteem and tenderness 
so profound. 

Josephine employed much of her time in su- 
perintending those improvements which she 
thought would please her husband on his re- 
turn ; creating for him pleasant little surprises, 
as she should guide his steps to the picturesque 
walk newly opened, to the rustic bridge span- 
ning the stream, to the rural pavilion, where, 
in the evening twilight, they could commune. 
She often rode on horseback with Hortense, 
who was peculiarly fond of all those pleasures 
which had the concomitants of graceful display. 

After Napoleon's triumphant return from It- 



174 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Retirement at Malmaison. Private theatricals. 

aly, the visits to Malmaison were more frequent 
than ever before. Napoleon and Josephine oft- 
en spent several days there ; and in after years 
they frequently spoke of these hours as the 
pleasantest they had passed in life. The agree- 
able retirement of Malmaison was, however, 
changed into enjoyment more public and social 
by the crowds of visitors with which its saloons 
and parks were filled. Josephine received her 
guests with republican simplicity, united with 
the utmost elegance. Her reception-room was 
continually thronged with the most distinguish- 
ed officers of the government, renowned gener- 
als, and all the men most illustrious for birth 
and talent the metropolis contained. 

The circle assembled here was, indeed, a 
happy one. A peculiar bond of union existed 
throughout the whole household, for Napoleon, 
as well as Josephine, secured the most devoted 
attachment of all the servants. One of their fa 
vorite amusements was family theatricals. Eu- 
gene and Hortense took an active part in these 
performances, in which both had talents to excel. 

But the favorite and most characteristic 
amusement at Malmaison was the game of 
"Prisoners," a common game among the school- 
boys of France, though comparatively little 



A. D. 1800.] Character developed. 175 

The game of " Prisoners." The mode of playing it. 

known in this country. The company is divi- 
ded into two parties. Those who are appoint- 
ed leaders choose each their respective sides. 
Bounds are assigned to each party, and a par- 
ticular point as a fortress. If any one is caught 
away from the fortress by one who left his own 
station after the captive left the hostile fort, he 
is a prisoner, and must remain at the appoint- 
ed prison until rescued. For instance, Hor- 
tense leaves her fortress, and cautiously invades 
the territory of the enemy. Josephine darts 
after her, and eagerly pursues her over the 
greensward. Eugene, who remains at his for- 
tress until after Josephine left hers, bounds 
after his mother. It is now her turn to flee. 
But others of her party, who have remained 
under the protection of their fortress, rush to her 
rescue. Eugene, however, succeeds in touch- 
ing his mother before they reach him, and leads 
her off in triumph a prisoner. A tree, perhaps, 
at a little distance, is her prison. Here she must 
remain until rescued by a touch from one of 
her own party. But if the one who is rushing 
to her rescue is touched by one of the other 
party who left his fortress an instant later, an- 
other captive is taken to stand by her side. 
In this mimicry of war Napoleon always de- 



176 Josephine. [A.D.1800. 

Napoleon's favorite amusement. He is no misanthrope. 

lighted to engage. After dinner, upon the 
lawn at Malmaison, the most distinguished 
gentlemen and ladies, not of France only, but 
of all Europe, were often actively and most 
mirthfully engaged in this sport. Kings, and 
queens, and princes of the blood royal were 
often seen upon the lawn at Malmaison pursu- 
ing and pursued. Napoleon and Josephine, and 
most of the friends who surrounded them, were 
in the vigor of athletic youth, and, in entire 
abandonment to the frolic of the hour, the air 
resounded with their shouts. It was observed 
that Napoleon was ever anxious to choose Jo- 
sephine as the first on his side, and he seemed 
nervously excited, if she was taken prisoner, 
until she was rescued. He was a poor runner, 
and often fell, rolling over headlong upon the 
grass, while he and all his associates were con- 
vulsed with laughter. When there was no spe- 
cial engagement demanding attention, this sport 
often continued for hours. Napoleon was often 
taken captive. But when Josephine was im- 
prisoned, he was incessantly clapping his hands, 
and shouting, ''A rescue! a rescue!" till she 
was released. A gloomy misanthrope, wrapped 
in self, could not have enjoyed these scenes of 
innocent hilarity. 



A.D.1800.] Character developed. 177 



Josephine's expansive benevolence. 



But the life of Josephine was not devoted to 
amusement. While she entered with warmth 
into these sports, being the soul of every festive 
party, her heart was consecrated to the promo- 
tion of happiness in every way in her power. 
When a child, playing with the little negresses 
of Martinique, she was adored as their queen. 
When in penury, crossing the Atlantic, by kind 
sympathy manifested for the sick and the sor- 
rowful, she won the hearts of the seamen. When 
a prisoner, under sentence of death, by her 
cheerfulness, her forgetfulness of self, and her 
hourly deeds of delicate attention to others, she 
became an object of universal love in those cells 
of despair. When prosperity again dawned 
upon her, and she was in the enjoyment of an 
ample competence, every cottage in the vicinity 
of Malmaison testified to her benevolence. And 
now, when placed in a position of power, all her 
influence was exerted to relieve the misfortunes 
of those illustrious men whom the storms of 
revolution had driven from their homes and from 
France. She never forgot the unfortunate, but 
devoted a considerable portion of her income 
to the relief of the emigrants. She was at 
times accused of extravagance. Her nature 
was generous in the extreme, and the profusion 
M 



178 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Josephine's unwearied exertions in beiialf of the emigrants. 

of her expenditures was an index of her expan- 
sive benevolence. 

Napoleon, soon after he became first consul, 
published a decree, inviting the emigrants to 
return, and did what he could to restore to them 
their confiscated estates. There were, however, 
necessarily exceptions from the general act of 
amnesty. Cases were continually arising of 
peculiar perplexity and hardship, where widows 
and orphans, reduced from opulence to penury, 
sought lost property, which, during the tumult 
of the times, had become involved in inextrica- 
ble embarrassments. All such persons made 
application to Josephine. She ever found time 
to listen to their tales of sorrow, to speak words 
of sympathy, and, with great soundness of judg- 
ment, to render them all the aid in her power. 
" Josephine," said Napoleon, in reference to 
these her applications for the unfortunate, "will 
not take a refusal. But, it must be confessed, 
she rarely undertakes a case which has not pro- 
priety, at least, on its side." The Jacobin laws 
had fallen with fearful severity upon all the 
members of the ancient aristocracy and all the 
friends of royalty. The cause of these victims 
of anarchy Josephine was ever ready to espouse. 

A noble family by the name of Decrest had 



A.D.1800.] Character developed. 179 

The Marquis of Decrest Accidental death of his son. 

been indebted to the interposition of the wife of 
the first consul for their permission to return to 
France. As nearly all their property had disap- 
peared during their exile, Josephine continued 
to befriend them with her influence and her 
purse. On the evening of a festival day, a 
grand display of fire-works was exhibited on 
the banks of the Seine. A rocket, misdirected, 
struck a son of the marquis on the breast, and 
instantly killed him. The young man, who 
was on the eve of his marriage to the daughter 
of an ancient friend, was an officer of great 
promise, and the hope of the declining family. 
His death was a terrible calamity, as well as a 
most afflictive bereavement. The father aban- 
doned himself to all the delirium of inconsolable 
grief, and was so utterly lost in the depths of 
despair, that it was feared his mind would nev- 
er again recover its tone. The Duke of Or- 
leans was grand-uncle of the young man who 
was killed, and Madame Montesson, the moth- 
er of Louis Philippe, sent for her distressed rel- 
atives that she might administer to their conso- 
lation. All her endeavors, however, were en- 
tirely unavailing. 

In the midst of this afflictive scene, Josephine 
entered the saloon of Madame Montesson. Her 



180 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Josephine arrests the grief of Decrest. Her tenderness. 

own heart taught her that in such a grief as 
this words were valueless. Silently she took 
by the hand the eldest daughter, a beautiful 
girl, whose loveliness plead loudly for a father's 
care, and in the other arm she took their infant 
child of fifteen months, and, with her own 
cheeks bathed in tears, she kneeled before the 
stricken mourner. He raised his eyes and saw 
Josephine, the wife of the first consul, kneeling 
before him, and imploringly presenting his two 
children. He was at first astonished at the 
sight. Then, bursting into tears, he exclaimed, 
" Yes ! I have much for which I am yet bound 
to live. These children have claims upon me, 
and I must no longer yield to despair." A lady 
who was present on this occasion says, " I wit- 
nessed this scene, and shall never forget it. 
The wife of the first consul expressed, in lan- 
guage which I will not attempt to imitate, all 
that tenderness which the maternal bosom alone 
knows. She was the very image of a minis- 
tering angel, for the touching charm of her 
voice and look pertained more to heaven than 
to earth." Josephine had herself seen days as 
dark as could lower over a mortal's path. Love 
for her children was then the only tie which 
bound her to life. In those days of anguish she 



A. D. 1800.] Character developed. 181 

The Infernal Machine. Its power. Hortense wounded. 



learned the only appeal which, under these ck- 
cumstances, could touch a despairing father's 
heart. 

Several conspiracies were formed about this 
time against the life of the first consul. That 
of the Infernal Machine was one of the most 
desperate, reckless, and atrocious which history 
has recorded. On the evening of December 24, 
1800, Napoleon was going to the opera. Three 
gentlemen were with him in his carriage. Jo- 
sephine, with Hortense and one or two others, 
followed in another carriage. In passing from 
the Tuilleries to the theater, it was necessary 
to pass through the narrow street St. Nicaire. 
A cart, apparently by accident overturned, ob- 
structed the passage. The coachman, howev- 
er, who was driving his horses very rapidly, 
crowded his way by. He had barely passed 
the cart when a terrific explosion took place, 
> which was heard all over Paris. Eight persons 
were instantly killed and more than sixty 
wounded. Some of the houses in the vicinity 
were nearly blown down. The windows of both 
the carriages were shattered, and Hortense was 
slightly wounded by the broken glass. Napo- 
leon drove on to the opera, where he found the 
audience in the utmost consternation, for the 



182 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Napoleon proceeds to the opera. Narrow escape of Josephine 

explosion had shaken the whole city. He en- 
tered with a countenance as perfectly calm and 
untroubled as if nothing unusual had occurred. 
Every eye was fixed upon him. As soon as it 
was perceived that his person was safe, thun- 
ders of applause shook the walls of the theater. 
On every side Napoleon was greeted with the 
most devoted expressions of attachment. Soon 
Josephine came in, pale and trembling, and, 
after remaining half an hour, they both retired 
to the Tuilleries. Napoleon found the palace 
crowded with all the public functionaries of 
Paris, who had assembled to congratulate him 
upon his escape. 

The life of Josephine was saved on this oc- 
casion by apparently the merest accident. She 
had recently received a magnificent shawl, a 
present from Constantinople, and was preparing 
to wear it that evening for the first time. Na- 
poleon, however, in playful criticism, condemned 
the shawl, remarking upon its pattern and its 
color, and commending one which he deemed 
far more beautiful. ''You are a bold man," 
said Josephine, smiling, " in venturing to criti- 
cise my toilette. I shall take my revenge in 
giving you a lesson how to attack a redoubt. 
However," she continued, turning to one of her 



A.D.1800.] Character Developed. 183 

Treachery of the Royalists. Fouch6. 

attendants, "bring me the general's favorite. 
I will wear that." A delay of a few moments 
was caused in exchanging the shawls. In the 
mean time, Napoleon, with his friends, entered 
his carriage and drove on. Josephine soon fol- 
lowed. She had but just entered the street 
when the explosion took place. Had she fol- 
lowed, as usual, directly behind Napoleon, her 
death would have been almost inevitable. 

It was subsequently ascertained, greatly to 
the surprise of Napoleon and of all Europe, that 
the Royalists were the agents in this conspiracy. 
Napoleon had been their benefactor, and while 
he knew it to be impossible to replace the Bour- 
bons iipon the throne of France, he did every 
thing in his pov/er to mitigate the rriisfortunes 
which Jacobin violence had inflicted upon their 
friends. The first consul made no disguise of 
his utter detestation of the Jacobins, and of their 
reign of merciless tyranny. He consequently 
supposed that they were the authors of the atro- 
cious crime. The real authors of the conspiracy 
were, however, soon discovered. Fouche, whom 
. Bonaparte disliked exceedingly for his inhuman 
deeds during the Revolution, was the Minister 
of Police. Upon him mainly devolved the trial 
and the punishment of the accused. Josephine 



184 Josephine. [A.D.1800. 

Josephine's letter to the Mmister of Police. 

immediately wrote a letter to Fouche, most 
strikingly indicative of the benevolence of her 
noble heart, and of that strength of mind which 
could understand that the claims of justice must 
not pass unheeded. 

" Citizen-Minister,— While I yet tremble at 
the frightful event which has just occurred, I 
am disquieted and distressed through fear of the 
punishment necessarily to be inflicted on the 
guilty, who belong, it is said, to families with 
whom I once lived in habits of intercourse. I 
shall be solicited by mothers, sisters, and dis- 
consolate wives ; and my heart will be broken 
through my inability to obtain all the mercy for 
which I would plead. 

" I know that the clemency of the first con- 
sul is great, his attachment to me extreme ; but 
the crime is too dreadful that terrible examples 
should not be necessary. The chief of the gov- 
ernment has not been alone exposed ; and it is 
that which will render him severe — inflexible. 
I conjure you, therefore, to do all in your power 
to prevent inquiries being pushed too far. Do 
not detect all those persons who may have been 
accomplices in these odious transactions. Let 
not France, so long overwhelmed in consterna- 
tion by public executions, groan anew beneath 



A.D.1800.] Character Developed. 185 

She pleads for lenity in behalf of the guilty. 

such inflictions. It is even better to endeavor 
to soothe the public mind than to exasperate 
men by fresh terrors. In short, when the ring- 
leaders of this nefarious attempt shall have been 
secured, let severity give place to pity for infe- 
rior agents, seduced as they may have been by 
dangerous falsehoods or exaggerated opinions. 

"When just invested with supreme power, 
the first consul, as seems to me, ought rather 
to gain hearts than to be exhibited as ruling 
slaves. Soften by your counsels whatever may 
be too violent in his just resentment. Punish 
— alas ! that you must certainly do — but par- 
don still more. Be also the support of those un- 
fortunate men who, by frank avowal or repent- 
ance, shall expiate a portion of their crime. 

'^ Having myself narrowly escaped perishing 
in the Revolution, you must regard as quite 
natural my interference on behalf of those who 
can be saved without involving in new danger 
the life of my husband, precious to me and to 
France. On this account, do, I entreat you, 
make a wide distinction between the authors of 
the crime and those who, through weakness or 
fear, have consented to take a part therein. As 
a woman, a wife, and a mother, I must feel the 
heart-rendings of those who will apply to me. 



186 Josephine. [A.D.1800. 



Character of Louis Napoleon. 



At3t, citizen minister, in such a manner that the 
number of these may be lessened. This will 
spare me much grief. Never will I turn aw£^ 
from the supplications of misfortune. But in the 
present instance you can do infinitely more than 
I, and you will, on this account, excuse my im- 
portunity. Rely on my gratitude and esteem." 
Hortense was now eighteen years of age. 
Louis Napoleon, brother of the first consul, was 
twenty-four. The plan was formed by Napo- 
leon and Josephine of uniting them in marriage. 
Louis was a studious, imaginative, pensive man, 
with no taste for the glitter and pomp of fashion, 
and with a decided aversion to earth's noisy 
ambition. He loved communing with his own 
thoughts, the falling leaf, the sighing wind — the 
fireside with its books, its solitude, its sacred so- 
ciety of one or two congenial friends. He be- 
longed to that class of men, always imbued with 
deep feeling, whose happiness is only found in 
those hallowed affections which bind kindred 
hearts in congenial pursuits and joys. As Napo- 
leon was riding triumphantly upon his war-horse 
over the Austrian squadrons in Italy, achieving 
those brilliant victories which paved his way to 
the throne of France, Louis, then a young man 
but nineteen years of age, met in Paris a young 



A.D. 1801.] Character DEVELOPED. 187 

He is disappointed in love. Napoleon tries to heal the wound. 

lady, the daughter of an emigrant noble, for whom 
he formed a strong attachment, and his whole 
soul became absorbed in the passion of love. Na- 
poleon was informed of this attachment, and, ap- 
prehensive that the alliance of his brother with 
one of the old Royalist families might endanger 
his own ambitious projects, he sent him away on 
a military commission, and with his inflexible 
will and strong arm broke off the connection. 
The young lady was soon afterward married to 
another gentleman, and poor Louis was plunged 
into depths of disappointment and melancholy, 
from whence he never emerged. Life was ever 
after to him but a cloudy day, till, with a grief- 
worn spirit, he sank into the grave. 

Napoleon, conscious of the wound he had in- 
flicted upon his sensitive brother, endeavored, in 
various ways, to make amends. There was very 
much in his gentle, affectionate, and fervent spir- 
it to attract the tender regard of Napoleon, and 
he ever after manifested toward him a disposi- 
tion of peculiar kindness. It was long before 
Louis would listen to the proposition of his mar- 
riage with Hortense. His affections still clung, 
though hopelessly, yet so tenaciously to the lost 
object of his idolatry, that he could not think, 
without pain, of his union with another. More 



188 Josephine. [A.D. 1801. 

Character of Hortense. She is married to Louie. 

uncongenial nuptials could hardly have been 
imagined. Hortense was a beautiful, merry, 
thoughtless girl — amiable, but very fond of ex- 
citement and display. In the ball-room, the 
theater, and other places of brilliant entertain- 
ment, she found her chief pleasures. In addi- 
tion to this incongruity, she was already in love 
with the handsome Duroc, the favorite aid of 
Napoleon. It is not strange that such a young 
lady should have seen as little to fancy in the 
disappointed and melancholy Louis as he could 
see attractive in one who lived but for the pa- 
geantry of the passing hour. Thus both parties 
r w^ere equally averse to the match. The tact of 
Josephine, however, and the power of Napoleon 
combined, soon overcame all obstacles, and the 
mirth-loving maiden and the pensive scholar 
were led to their untoward nuptials. Hortense 
became more easily reconciled to the match, as 
her powerful father promised, in consequence of 
this alliance, to introduce her to seats of gran- 
deur where all her desires should be gratified. 
Louis, resigning himself to any lot in a world 
which had no further joy in store for him, suf- 
fered himself to be conducted submissively to 
the altar. 

At the fete given in honor of this marriage, 



A.D.1801.] Character DEVELOPED. 189 

An uncongenial union. Marriage of Duroc. 

the splendors of ancient royalty seemed to be re- 
vived. But every eye could see the sadness of 
the newly-married bride beneath the profusion 
of diamonds and flowers with which she was 
adorned. 'Louis Napoleon, the present President 
of the French Republic, is the only surviving off- 
spring of this uncongenial union, v 

The gay and handsome Duroc, who had been 
the accepted lover of Hortense, was soon after 
married to an heiress, who brought him, with an 
immense fortune, a haughty spirit and an irri- 
table temper, which embittered all his days. 
The subsequent life of Hortense presents one of 
the most memorable illustrations of the insuffi- 
ciency of human grandeur to promote happiness. 
Josephine witnessed with intense solicitude the 
utter want of congeniality existing between 
them, and her heart often bled as she saw alien- 
ation growing stronger and stronger, until it re- 
sulted in an entire separation. Hortense might 
easily have won and retained the affections of 
the pensive but warm-hearted Louis, had she 
followed the counsels of her noble mother. Jo- 
sephine, herself the almost perfect model of a 
wife, was well qualified to give advice in such a 
case. The following letter, written to Hortense 
some time before her separation from Louis, ex- 



190 Josephine. [A.D. 1801. 

Letter from Josephine to Hortense. 

hibits in a most amiable light the character of 
Josephine. 

To Queen Hortense. 

" What I learned eight days ago gave me the 
greatest pain. What I observe to-day confirms 
and augments my sorrow. Why show to Louis 
this repugnance ? Instead of rendering him more 
ungracious still by caprice, by inequality of char- 
acter, why do you not rather make efforts to sur- 
mount your indifference ? But you will say, he 
is not amiable ! All that is relative. If not in 
your eyes amiable, he may appear so to others, 
and all women do not view him through the me- 
dium of dislike. As for myself, who am here 
altogether disinterested, I imagine that I behold 
him as he is, more loving^ doubtless, than lov- 
able^ but this is a great and rare quality. He 
is generous, beneficent, feeling, and, above all, 
an excellent father. If you so willed, he would 
prove a good husband. His melancholy, his love 
of study and retirement, injure him in your es- 
timation. For these, I ask you, is he to blame ? 
Is he obliged to conform his nature to circum- 
stances ? Who could have predicted to him his 
fortune ? But, according to you, he has not even 
the courage to bear that fortune. This, I believe, 



A.D. 1801.] Character developed. 191 

She advises Hortense to be more kind to Louie. 

is an error ; but he certainly wants the strength. 
With his ascetic inclinations, his invincible de- 
sire of retirement and study, he finds himself 
misplaced in the elevated rank to which he has 
attained. You desire that he should imitate 
his brother. Give him, first of all, the same tem- 
perament. » You have not failed to remark that 
almost our entire existence depends upon our 
health, and that upon our digestion. Let poor 
Louis digest better, and you would find him more 
amiable. But, such as he is, there can be no rea- 
son for abandoning him, or making him feel the 
unbecoming sentiments with which he inspires 
you. Do you, whom I have seen so kind, con- 
tinue to be so at the moment when it is precise- 
ly more than ever necessary. Take pity on a 
man who has to lament that he possesses what 
would constitute another's happiness ; and, be- 
fore condemning him, think of others who, like 
him, have groaned beneath the burden of their 
greatness, and bathed with their tears that dia- 
dem which they believed had never been des- 
tined for their brow." 

This, surely, was admirable counsel, and, had 
Hortense followed it, she would have saved her- 
self many a long year of loneliness and anguish. 
But the impetuous and thoughtless bride could 



192 Josephine. [A.D. 1801. 

Unhappy disposition of Louis. Errors of Hortense. 

not repress the repugnance with which she re- 
garded the cold exterior and the exacting love of 
her husband. Louis demanded from her a sin- 
gleness and devotedness of affection which was 
unreasonable. He wished to engross all her 
faculties of loving. He desired that every pas- 
sion of her soul should be centered in him, and 
was jealous of any happiness she found except- 
ing that which he could give. He was even 
troubled by the tender regard with which she 
cherished her mother and her brother, consider- 
ing all the love she gave to them as so much 
withheld from him. Hortense was passionately 
fond of music and of painting. Louis almost 
forbade her the enjoyment of those .delightful 
accomplishments, thinking that she pursued 
them with a heartfelt devotion inconsistent with 
that supreme love with which she ought to re- 
gard her husband. Hortense, proud and high- 
spirited, would not submit to such tyranny. 
She resisted and retaliated. She became, con- 
sequently, wretched, and her husband wretch- 
ed, and discord withered all the joys of home. 
At last, the union of such discordant spirits be- 
came utterly insupportable. They separated. 
The story of their domestic quarrels vibrated 
upon the ear of Europe. Louis wandered here 



A. D. 1801.] Character developed. 193 

Happiness to which she might have attained. 

and there, joyless and sad, till, weary of a mis- 
erable life, alone and friendless, he died. Hor- 
tense retired, with a restless and suffering 
heart, to the mountains of Switzerland, where, 
in a secluded castle, she lingered out the re- 
maining years of her sorrowful pilgrimage. It 
was an unfortunate match. Having been made, 
the only possible remedy was in pursuing the 
course which Josephine so earnestly recom- 
mended. Had Josephine been married to Lou- 
is, she would have followed the course she coun- 
seled her daughter to pursue. She would have 
leaned fondly upon his arm in his morning and 
evening walks. She would have cultivated a 
lively interest in his reading, his studies, and 
all his quiet domestic pleasures. She would, 
as far as possible, have relinquished every pur- 
suit which could by any possibility have caused 
him pain. Thus she would have won his love 
and his admiration. Every day her power over 
him would have been increasing. Gradually 
her influence would have molded his character 
to a better model. He would have become 
proud of his wife. He would have leaned upon 
her arm. He would have been supported by 
her affection and her intellectual strength. He 
would have become more cheerful in character 
N 



194 Josephine. [ A.D. 1801. 

The spirit of Josephine. Character of Hortense. 

and resolute in purpose. Days of tranquillity 
and happiness would have embellished their 
dwelling. The spirit of Josephine ! It is noble 
as well as lovely. It accomplishes the most ex- 
alted achievements, and diifuses the most enno- 
bling happiness. There are thousands of unions 
as uncongenial as that of Hortense and Louis. 
From the woes such unions would naturally 
engender there is but one refuge, and Josephine 
has most beautifully shown what that refuge is. 
Hortense, proud and high-spirited, resolved that 
she would not submit to the exacting demands 
of her husband. In her sad fate we read the 
warning not to imitate her example. 

Hortense is invariably described as an un- 
usually fascinating woman. She had great 
vivacity of mind, and displayed much brilliance 
of conversational powers. Her person was fine- 
ly formed, and she inherited much of that grace- 
ful demeanor which so signally characterized 
her mother. She was naturally amiable, and 
was richly endowed with all those accomplish- 
ments which enable one to excel in the art of 
pleasing. Louis, more than any other of the 
brothers, most strongly resembled Napoleon. 
He was a very handsome man, and possessed 
far more than ordinary abilities. Under less 



A.D.1801.] Character developed. 195 

Calumnies against Napoleon. They fail in their effect 

untoward circumstances he might have been 
eminently happy. Fev^^ persons, hov^ever, have 
journeyed along the path of life under a darker 
cloud than that which ever shed its gloom upon 
the footsteps of Louis and Hortense. \y''' 

Among the various attempts which had been 
made to produce alienation between Napoleon 
and Josephine, one of the most atrocious was 
the whispered insinuation that the strong affec- 
tion which the first consul manifested for Hor- 
tense was a guilty passion. Napoleon exhibit- 
ed in the most amiable manner his qualities as 
a father, in the frequent correspondence he car- 
ried on with the two children of Josephine, in 
the interest he took in their studies, and in the 
solicitude he manifested to promote their best 
welfare. He loved Hortense as if she had been 
his own child. Josephine was entirely impreg- 
nable against any jealousy to be introduced from 
that quarter, and a peaceful smile was her only 
reply to all such insinuations. Hortense had 
also heard, and had utterly disregarded, these 
rumors. The marriage of Hortense to a brother 
of Napoleon had entirely silenced the calumny, 
and it was soon forgotten. 

Subsequently, when Hortense had become en- 
tirely alienated from her husband, and was re- 



196 Josephine. [A.D. 1801. 

Unjust remarks of Hortense. Josephine's reply. 

solved upon a separation, Josephine did every 
thing in her power to dissuade her from an act 
so rash, so disgraceful, so ruinous to her happi- 
ness. She wrote to her in terms of the most 
earnest entreaty. The self-willed queen, an- 
noyed by these remonstrances, and unable to re- 
ply to them, ventured to intimate to her mother 
that perhaps she was not entirely disinterested 
in her opposition. In most guarded terms she 
suggested that her mother had heard the ground- 
less accusation of Napoleon's undue fondness, 
and that it was possible that her strong opposi- 
tion to the separation of Hortense from her hus- 
band might originate in the fear that Hortense 
might become, in some degree, her rival in the 
affections of Napoleon. Josephine very prompt- 
ly and energetically replied, 

" You have misunderstood me entirely, my 
child. There is nothing equivocal in my words, 
as there can not exist an uncandid sentiment in 
my heart. How could you imagine that I could 
participate in opinions so ridiculous and so mali- 
cious ? No, Hortense, you do not think that I 
believe you to be my rival. We do, indeed, both 
reign in the same heart, though by very differ- 
ent, yet by equally sacred rights. And they 
who, in the affection which my husband mani- 



A.D. 1801.] Character developed. 197 

The love of glory Napoleon's ruling passion. 

fests for you, have pretended to discover other 
sentiments than those of a parent and a friend, 
know not his soul. His mind is too elevated 
above that of the vulgar to be ever accessible to 
unw^orthy passions. The passion of glory, if 
you will, engrosses him too entirely for our re- 
pose ; but glory, at least, inspires nothing which 
is vile. Such is my profession of faith respect- 
ing Napoleon. I make this confession to you in 
all sincerity, that I may allay your inquietudes. 
When I recommended you to love, or, at least, 
not to repulse Louis, I spoke to you in my char- 
acter of an experienced wife, an attentive moth- 
er, and a tender friend, and in this threefold re- 
lation do I now embrace you." 



198 Josephine. [A.D. 1802. 

Josephine and Napoleon visit Lyons. Josephine makes new friends. 



Chapter X. 
The Coronation. 

EARLY in the year 1802 Josephine accom- 
panied Napoleon in various excursions to 
distant parts of the empire. She went with 
him to Lyons to meet the Italian deputies, who 
had assembled there to confer upon him the 
dignity of President of the Cisalpine Republic. 
The entertainments in Lyons upon this occa- 
sion were arranged with regal magnificence. 
Josephine, by her grace and affability, secured 
universal admiration, and every tongue was 
eloquent in h er praises. E ach succeeding month 
seemed now to bring some new honor to Jose- 
phine. Her position as wife of the first consul, 
her known influence over her husband, and the 
almost boundless popularity he had acquired 
over the minds of his countrymen, who were 
ever conducting him by rapid strides to new 
accessions of power, surrounded her with mul- 
titudes striving in every way to ingratiate them- 
selves into her favor. 

From Lyons they returned to their beloved 



A.D.1802.] The Coronation. 199 

Return to Malmaison. Anecdote of the writing-master. 

retreat at Malmaison, where they passed sev- 
eral weeks. But place and power had already 
deprived them of retirement. Napoleon was 
entirely engrossed with his vast projects of am- 
bition. The avenue to their rural mansion was 
unceasingly thronged with, carriages, and the 
saloon of Josephine was ever filled with the 
most illustrious guests. 

One day Josephine happened to be in the 
cabinet with her husband alone. A man, whose 
coat was much the worse for wear, and whose 
whole appearance presented many indications 
of the struggle with poverty, was ushered into 
the room. He appeared greatly embarrassed, 
and at length, with much confusion, introduced 
himself as the writing-master at Brienne who 
had taught the first consul hand- writing. '' And 
a fine penman you made of me I" exclaimed Na- 
poleon, in affected anger. " Ask my wife there 
what she thinks of my writing." The poor 
man stood trembling in trepidation, when Jose- 
phine looked up with one of her sweetest smiles, 
and said, " I assure you, sir, his letters are per- 
fectly delightful." Napoleon laughed at the 
well-timed compliment, and settled upon the 
writing-master a small annuity for life. It was 
a noble trait in the character of the first consul 



200 Josephine. [A.D.1802. 

Tour of the northern provinces. Enthusiasm of the people. 

4 that in his days of power he was ever mindful 
of those who were the friends of his early years. 
All the instructors of the school he attended at 
Brienne were thus remembered by him. 

Napoleon and Josephine now made the tour 
of the northern provinces of France. They 
were every where received with unbounded en- 
thusiasm. The first consul had, indeed, con- 
ferred the greatest blessings on his country. 
He had effectually curbed the Revolutionary 
fury. He had established the reign of law. 
Thousands of exiles he had restored to their 
homes rejoicing. The discomfited armies of 
France he had led to new and brilliant victo- 
ries. Under his administration every branch 
of business had revived. From every part of 
the empire Napoleon received the most enthu- 
siastic expressions of gratitude and attachment. 
He now began more seriously to contemplate 
ascending the throne of France. Conscious of 
his own power, and ambitious of the glory of 
elevating his country to the highest pinnacle of 
earthly greatness, and witnessing the enthusi- 
asm of admiration which his deeds had excited 
in the pubHc mind, he no longer doubted that 
his countrymen would soon be ready to place 
the scepter of empire in his hands. He thought 
that the pear was now ripe. 



A.D.1802.] The Coronation. 201 

Josephine ever solicitous in behalf of the comfort of others. 

Josephine ever enjoyed most highly accom- 
panying her husband on these tours, and she, 
on such occasions, manifested, in the most at- 
tractive manner, her readiness to sacrifice her 
own personal comfort to promote the happiness 
of others. Napoleon was in the habit of moving 
with such rapidity, and of setting out so unex- 
pectedly upon these journeys, and he was so per- 
emptory in his injunctions as to the places where 
he intended to halt, that often no suitable accom- 
modations could be provided for Josephine and 
her attendant ladies. No complaint, however, 
was ever heard from her lips. No matter how 
great the embarrassment she encountered, she 
ever exhibited the same imperturbable cheerful- 
ness and good humor. She always manifested 
much more solicitude in reference to the accom- 
modation of her attendants than for her own com- 
fort. She would herself visit their apartments, 
and issue personal directions to promote their 
convenience. One night, just as she was about 
to retire to rest, she observed that her waiting- 
woman had but a single mattress, spread upon 
the floor, for her repose. She immediately, with 
her own hands, took from the bed destined for 
herself another mattress, and supplied the defi- 
ciency, that her waiting- woman might sleep 



202 Josephine. [A.D. 1802. 

Benevolence of Josephine's heart. The palace of St. Cloud. 

more comfortably. Whenever any of her hou se- 
hold were sick, Josephine promptly visited their 
bedside, and with her own hands ministered to 
their wants. She would remember them at her 
own table, and from the luxurious viands spread 
out before her, would select delicacies which 
might excite a failing appetite. It often hap- 
pened, in these sudden and hasty journeys, that, 
from want of accommodation, some of the party 
were compelled to remain in the carriages while 
Napoleon and Josephine dined. In such cases 
they were never forgotten. This was not policy 
and artifice on the part of Josephine, but the in- 
stinctive dictates of a heart overflowing with be- 
nevolence. 

*"» On Napoleon's return from this tour he took 
possession of the palace of St. Cloud. This was 
another step toward the throne of the Bourbons. 
This magnificent abode of ancient grandeur had 
been repaired and most gorgeously furnished. 
The versatile French, weary of Republican sim- 
plicity, witnessed with joy the indications of a 
return of regal magnificence. A decree also 
granted to Josephine '' four ladies, to assist her 
in doing the honors of the palace." No occupant 
of these splendid saloons ever embellished them 
more richly by the display of queenly graces than 



A.D.1802.] The Coronation. ' 203 

Napoleon's views of Christianity. Striking remarks. 

did Josephine ; and Napoleon, now constituted 
first consul for life, reigned with pomp and power 
which none of his predecessors had ever surpassed. 
The few remaining forms of the Republic rapidly 
disappeared. Josephine exerted much influence 
over her husband's mind in inducing him to re- 
establish the institutions of the Christian reli- 
gion. Napoleon at that time did not profess to 
have any faith in the divine origin of Christianity. 
Infidelity had swept resistlessly over France, and 
nearly every man of any note in the camp and 
in the court was an unbeliever. He was, con- 
sequently, very bitterly opposed in all his en- 
deavors to reinstate Christianity. One evening 
he was walking upon the terrace of his garden 
at Malmaison, most earnestly conversing with 
some influential members of the government 
upon this subject. 

" Religion," said he, '' is something which can 
not be eradicated from the heart of man. He 
must believe in a superior being. Who made 
all that ?" he continued, pointing to the stars 
brilliantly shining in the evening sky. " Last 
Sunday evening I was walking here alone, when 
the church bells of the village of Ruel rang at 
sunset. I was strongly moved, so vividly did 
the image of early days come back with that 



204 ^ Josephine. [A.D. 1802. 

Influence of Josephine in the re-establishment of Christianity. 

sound. If it be thus with me, what must it be 
with others? Let your philosophers answer 
that, if they can. It is absolutely indispensable 
to have a religion for the people. In re-estab- 
lishing Christianity, I consult the wishes of a 
great majority of the French nation." 

Josephine probably had very little religious 
knowledge. She regarded Christianity as a sen- 
timent rather than a principle. She felt the po- 
etic beauty of its revelations and its ordinances. 
She knew how holy were its charities, how pure 
its precepts, how ennobling its influences, even 
when encumbered with the grossest supersti- 
tions. She had seen, and dreadfully had she 
felt, what France was without religion — with 
marriage a mockery, conscience a phantom, and 
death proclaimed to all an eternal sleep. She 
therefore most warmly seconded her husband in 
all endeavors to restore again to desolated France 
the religion of Jesus Christ. 

The next morning after the issuing of the 
proclamation announcing the re-establishment 
of public worship, a grand religious ceremony 
took place in honor of the occasion in theTchurch 
of Notre Dame. Napoleon, to produce a deep 
impression upon the public mind, invested the 
occasion with all possible pomp. As he was 



A.D.1802.] The Coronation. 205 

Religious ceremony at N6tre Dame. Proclamation of Napoleon. 

preparing to go to the Cathedral, one of his col- 
leagues, Cambaceres, entered the room. 
• " Well," said the first consul, rubbing his 
hands in fine spirits, " we go to church this 
morning ; what say they to that in Paris ?" 

" Many people," replied Cambaceres, " pro- 
pose to attend the first representation in order 
to hiss the piece, should they not find it amus- 
ing." 

'' If any one takes it into his head to hiss, I 
shall put him out of the door by the grenadiers 
of the consular guard." 

'' But what if the grenadiers themselves take 
to hissing like the rest ?" 

^' As to that, I have no fear. My old mus- 
taches will go here to Notre Dame just as at 
Cairo they would have gone to the mosque. 
They will remark how I do, and, seeing their 
general grave and decent, they will be so too, 
passing the watchw^ord to each other. Decency .'" 

In the noble proclamation which the first 
consul issued upon this great event, he says, 
" An insane policy has sought, during the Rev- 
olution, to smother religious dissensions under 
the ruins of the altar, under the ashes of relig- 
ion itself. At its voice all those pious solemni- 
ties ceased in which the citizens called each 



206 Josephine, [A.D. 1802. 

Christiaa charity recommended. Triumph of Christianity. 

other by the endearing name of brothers, and 
acknowledged their common equality in the 
sight of Heaven. The dying, left alone in his 
agonies, no longer heard that consoling voice 
which calls the Christian to a better world. 
God himself seemed exiled from the face of na- 
ture. Ministers of the religion of peace ! let a 
complete oblivion veil over your dissensions, 
your misfortunes, your faults. Let the religion 
which unites you bind you by indissoluble cords 
to the interests of your country.,1' Citizens of 
the Protestant faith I the law has equally ex- 
tended its solicitude to your interests. Let the 
morality, so pure, so holy, so brotherly, which 
you profess, unite you all in love to your coun- 
try and respect for its laws ; and, above all, 
never permit disputes on doctrinal points to 
weaken that universal charity which religion 
at once inculcates and commands." 

This, surely, is a great triumph of Christian- 
ity. A man like Napoleon, even though not at 
the time a believer in its divine origin, was so 
perfectly satisfied of its beneficial influence upon 
mankind, that, as a matter of state policy, he 
felt compelled to reinstate its observances- 
Josephine cherished emotions of the deepest 
gratitude toward all those who had proved 



A.D.1800.] The Coronation. 207 

MadEime Tallien disliked by Napoleon. Dissipation in Paris, 

friendly to her in the days of her adversity. 
Napoleon, with his strong prejudices, often took 
a dislike to those whom Josephine loved. Ma- 
dame Tallien, the companion of Josephine in 
her captivity and her benefactor after her re- 
lease, was, for some unknown reason, peculiarly 
obnoxious to Napoleon. She was extremely 
beautiful and very ambitious, and her exclusion 
from the splendors of the new court, now daily 
becoming more brilliant, mortified her exceed- 
ingly. Josephine also was greatly troubled. 
She could not disregard the will of her husband, 
and her heart recoiled from the thought of in- 
gratitude toward one who had been her friend 
in adversity. At this time, in Paris, pleasure 
seemed to be the universal object of pursuit. 
All the restraints of religion had been swept 
away, and masked balls, gambling, and every 
species of dissipation attracted to the metropo- 
lis the wealthy and the dissolute from all parts 
of Europe. * Napoleon never made his appear- 
ance in any of these reckless scenes of revelry. 
He ever was an inveterate enemy to gambling 
in all its forms, and had no relish for luxurious 
indulgence. Josephine, however, accompanied 
by Eugene, occasionally looked in upon the 
dancers at the masked balls. On one of these 



208 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Incident at a masked ball. Josephine and Madame Tallien. 

occasions a noble lady witnessed an incident 
which she has recorded in the following words : 
'' Chance rendered me witness of a singular 
scene at one of these balls. It was near two 
o'clock in the morning, the crowd immense, 
and the heat overpowering. I had ascended 
for a few moments to the apartments above, 
and, refreshed by the cool air, was about to de- 
scend, when the sound of voices in the adjoining 
room, in earnest conversation, caught my at- 
tention. Applying my ear to the partition, the 
name of Bonaparte, and the discovery that Jo- 
sephine and Madame Tallien were the speak- 
ers, excited a real curiosity. " I assure you, 
my dear Theresina," said Josephine, " that I 
have done all that friendship could dictate, but 
in vain. No later than this morning I made a 
new effort. Bonaparte would hear of nothing. 
I can not comprehend what can have prejudiced 
him so strongly against you. You are the only 
woman whose name he has effaced from the list 
of my particular friends ; and from fear lest he 
should manifest his displeasure directly against 
us have I now come hither alone with my son. 
At this moment they believe me sound asleep 
in my bed at the Tuilleries ; but I determined 
on coming to see, to warn, and to console you, 
and, above all, to justify myself." 



A.D.1800.] The Coronation. 209 

The stolen interview. Eugene interrupts it. 

*' My dear Josephine," Madame Tallien re- 
plied, '' I have never doubted either the good- 
ness of your heart or the sincerity of your af- 
fection. Heaven is my witness that the loss 
of your friendship would be to me much more 
painful than any dread of Bonaparte. In these 
difficult times, I have maintained a conduct that 
might, perhaps, render my visits an honor, but 
I will never importune you to receive me with- 
out his consent. He was not consul when Tal- 
lien followed him into Egypt, when I received 
you both into my house, when I shared with 
you — " Here she burst into tears, and her 
voice became inaudible. 

" Calm yourself, my dear Theresina," Jose- 
phine rejoined ; "be calm, and let the storm 
pass. I am paving the way for a reconcilia- 
tion, but we must not irritate him more. You 
know that he does not love Ouvrard, and it is 
said that he often sees you." 

"What, then," Madame Tallien replied, 
" because he governs France, does he expect to 
tyrannize over our hearts ? Must we sacrifice 
to him our private friendships ?" 

At that moment some one knocked at the 
door, and Eugene Beauharnais entered. " Ma- 
dame," said he to his mother, " you have been 
O 



210 Josephine. [A.D.1800. 

Ouvrard. Rumors. Apprehensions of Josephine. 

now more than an hour absent. The council 
of ministers is perhaps over. What will the 
first consul say, should he not find you on his 
return?" The two ladies then, arm in arm, 
descended the stairs, conversing in earnest whis- 
pers, followed by Eugene. 

This Ouvrard, to whom allusion is made 
above, was a famous banker in Paris, of enor- 
mous wealth, and engaged in the most wild 
and extravagant speculations. 

It now began to be rumored that Napoleon 
would soon be crowned as king. Very many of 
the nation desired it, and though there was as 
yet no public declaration, vague hints and float- 
ing rumors filled the air. Josephine was greatly 
*^ disquieted. ^ It seemed more and more important 
that Napoleon should^have an heir. There was 
now no prospect that Josephine would ever be- 
come again a mother. She heard, with irrepress- 
ible anguish, that it had been urged upon her 
husband that the interests of France required 
that he should obtain a divorce and marry again ; 
that alliance with one of the ancient royal fam- 
ilies of Europe, and the birth of a son, to whom 
he could transmit his crown, would place his 
power upon an impregnable foundation. Jose- 
phine could not but perceive the apparent policy 



A.D. 1800.] The Coronation. 211 

Anecdote. Introduction of regal state, 

of the great wrong. And though she knew that 
Napoleon truly and tenderly loved her, she also 
feared that there was no sacrifice which he was 
not ready to make in obedience to the claims of 
his towering ambition. 

r One day she softly entered the cabinet without 
being announced. Bonaparte and Bourrienne 
were conversing together. The day before, an 
article appeared in the Moniteur, evidently pre- 
paring the way for the throne. Josephine gently 
approached her husband, sat down upon his knee, 
affectionately passed her hand through his hair 
and over his face, and, with moistened eyes and 
a burst of tenderness, exclaimed, " I entreat you, 
mon ami, do not make yourself a king. It is 
Lucien who urges you to it. Do not even list- 
en to him." 

Bonaparte, smiling very pleasantly, replied, 
" Why, my dear Josephine, you are crazy. You 
must not listen to these tales of the old dowa- 
gers. But you interrupt us now. I am very 
busy." 

During the earlier period of Napoleon's con- 
sulship, like the humblest citizen, he occupied 
the same bed-chamber with his spouse. But 
now that more of regal ceremony and state was 
being introduced to the consular establishment. 



212 Josephine. [A.D. 1800. 

Napoleon and Josephine occupy separate apartments. 

their domestic intercourse, to the great grief of 
Josephine, assumed more of cold formality. Sep- 
arate apartments were assigned to Josephine at 
a considerable distance from those occupied by 
her husband, and it was necessary to traverse 
a long corridor to pass from one to the other. 
The chambers of the principal ladies of the court 
opened upon this corridor from the right and 
the left. The splendor with which Josephine's 
rooms were furnished was no compensation to 
her for the absence of that affectionate familiar- 
ity for which her heart ever yearned. She also 
suspected, with anguish, that this separation 
was but the prelude of the divorce she so fear- 
fully apprehended. Whenever Napoleon passed 
the night in the apartment of Josephine, it was 
known to the whole household. Josephine, at 
such times, always appeared at a later hour in 
the morning than usual, for they generally passed 
half the night in conversation. 

''I think I see her still," writes one of the 
ladies of her household, "coming in to breakfast, 
looking quite cheerful, rubbing her little hands, 
as she was accustomed to do when peculiarly 
happy, and apologizing for having risen so late. 
On such occasions she was, if possible, more 
gracious than usual, refused nobody, and we 



A.D. 1800.] The Coronation. 213 

Josephine advocates the cause of the Bourbons. A present. 

were sure of obtaining every thing we asked, as 
I have myself many times experienced." 

The Bourbons had been for some time in cor- 
respondence with Napoleon, hoping, through his 
agency, to regain the throne. He assured them 
that their restoration could not possibly be ac- 
complished, even by the sacrifice of the lives of 
a million of Frenchmen. Josephine, who had 
suffered so much from anarchy, was a decided 
Royalist, and she exerted all her powers to in- 
duce Napoleon to make the attempt to reinstate 
the Bourbons. When her friends congratulated 
her upon the probability that she would soon be 
Empress of France, with heartfelt sincerity she 
replied, *' To be the wife of the first consul ful- 
fills my highest ambition. Let me remain so." 
The Bourbons expressed much gratitude at the 
time in view of Josephine's known intercessions 
in their behalf. 

About this time a serious accident happened 
to the first consul, which also exposed Jose- 
phine to much danger. The inhabitants of 
Antwerp had made Napoleon a present of six 
magnificent bay horses. With four of these 
spirited steeds harnessed to the carriage, Napo- 
leon was one day taking an airing, with Jose- 
phine and Cambaceres, the second consul, in 



214 Josephine. [A.D.1800. 

Napoleon tixkes to the whip. Accident resulting from his unskillfulness. 

the park. Napoleon, taking a fancy to drive 
four in hand, mounted the coach-box, and Cse- 
sar, his favorite coachman, was stationed be- 
hind. The horses soon discovered that they 
had a new and inexperienced driver, and start- 
ed off at the top of their speed. Napoleon lost 
all control over them, and the frightened ani- 
mals, perfectly ungovernable, dashed along the 
road at a fearful rate. Csesar kept shouting to 
Napoleon, " Keep in the middle !" Cambace- 
res, pale with fright, thrust his head out of the 
window, and shouted " Whoa ! whoa !" Jose- 
phine, greatly alarmed, sank back in her seat, 
and in silent resignation awaited the issue. 
As they approached the avenue to St. Cloud, 
the imperial driver had not sufficient skill to 
guide them safely through the gateway. The 
coach struck against one of the pillars, and was 
overturned with a terrible crash. Josephine 
and Cambaceres were considerably bruised. 
Napoleon was thrown from his seat to the dis- 
tance of eight or ten paces, and was taken up 
insensible. He, however, soon recovered. On 
retiring at night, they amused themselves in 
talking over the misadventure. " Mon ami," 
said Josephiwe, laughing, '' you must render 
unto Cgesar the things that be Caesar's. Let 



A.D. 1800.] The Coronation. 215 

Napoleon's views of death. Subsequent change of opinion. 

him keep his whip. Each to his vocation." 
The conversation was continued for some time 
in a tone of pleasantry. Gradually Napoleon 
became more serious. He seemed to be reflect- 
ing deeply, and said that he never before came 
so near to death. '^ Indeed," said he, *' I was 
for some moments virtually dead. But what 
is death ? what is death ? It is merely a sleep 
without dreams." 

Such were probably, at this time, the views 
of Napoleon upon immortality. He subse- 
quently professed himself a sincere believer in 
the divine origin of Christianity, and wished to 
die within the pale of the Christian Church. 
That mind which can contemplate death with 
levity must be either exceedingly weak or hope- 
lessly deranged. 

While nearly all who surrounded the first 
consul were contemplating with the utmost sat- 
isfaction his approaching elevation to the throne, 
the subject awakened in the bosom of Jose- 
phine the most agitating emotions. She saw 
in the splendor of the throne peril to her hus- 
band, and the risk of entire downfall to herself. 
"The real enemies of Bonaparte," said she to 
Rcederer, " are those who put into his head 
ideas of hereditary succession, dynasty, divorce, 



216 Josephine. [A.D. 1802. 

Remonstrances of Josephine. Titled Englishmen in Paris. 

and marriage." Again she is represented as 
saying, '' I do not approve the projects of Na- 
poleon. I have often told him so. He hears 
me with attention, but I can plainly see that I 
make no impression. The flatterers who sur- 
round him soon obliterate all that I have said. 
The new honors which he will acquire will aug- 
ment the number of his enemies. The gener- 
als will exclaim that they have not fought so 
long merely to substitute the family of the 
Bonapartes for that of the Bourbons." 

The peace ratified by the treaty of Amiens 
in 1802 threw open the Continent to travelers 
from England. There were thousands m that 
country who were great admirers of Napoleon. 
The Tuilleries, St. Cloud, and Malmaison were 
consequently ever thronged with illustrious 
strangers from the island with which France 
had so long been engaged in war. The cele- 
brated statesman, Mr. Fox, with Lord and Lady 
Holland, Lord Erskine, and several others of 
the most distinguished of the English nobility, 
were visiting Paris, aria one morning were at a 
breakfast party at Madame Recamier's. Break- 
fast was nearly concluded, when the sounds of 
a horseman galloping into the court-yard were 
heard. Eugene Beauharnais was immediately 



A.D.1802.] The Coronation. 217 



Josephine invites them to Mahnaison. Their reception. 

after announced. After a few words of regret 
expressed to the lady of the house for having 
arrived so late, he turned to Mr. Fox and said, 
''I hope, sir, soon to indemnify myself for the 
loss of your society which I have this morning 
sustained. I am commissioned by my mother 
to attend you to Malmaison. The carriages 
will be here in a few moments which are for 
the accommodation of you and your friends, 
when you can resolve on leaving 'so many 
charms as must detain you here. I shall, with 
much pleasure, act as your guide." 

The carriages of the first consul soon arrived, 
and the whole party proceeded to Malmaison. 
Josephine received her guests with that cour- 
tesy and refined cordiality in which she was 
unrivaled. Bonaparte, knowing the powerful 
influence of the illustrious English statesman, 
was very desirous that he should receive a fa- 
vorable impression from his visit. It required 
but little effort on the part of Josephine to ex- 
cel in the art of pleasing. She banished all 
parade, and received her guests as family friends. 
The day was spent at Malmaison, and Mr. Fox 
afterward stated that he retired from the visit 
enchanted with the elegance and grace of all 
that he saw and heard. 



218 Josephine. [A.D. 1804. 

Dissipation in Paris. Napoleon declared emperor. 

Ten years had passed, during which France 
had been in a state of constant warfare. The 
short peace which succeeded the treaty of 
Amiens filled Paris with the best society of 
Europe. Extravagance and dissipation reigned 
in the metropolis. But in those scenes of dis- 
sipation neither Napoleon nor Josephine ever 
made their appearance. His mind was ever 
engrossed with the magnificent plans he was 
forming and the deeds he was achieving. Jo- 
sephine was equally engaged in watching over 
the interests of her husband, and in gaining and 
confirming friends to his cause. 
* On the 18th of May, 1804, by a decree of 
the senate, Napoleon was declared Emperor 
of France. The decree was sent out to the 
various departments for the action of the peo- 
ple. • The result was, that 3,572,329 voted in 
the aflirmative, while but 2569 were in the 
negative. A more unanimous expression of a 
nation's will history never has recorded. The 
day after his elevation to the imperial throne, 
the emperor held a grand levee at the Tuille- 
ries, and Josephine, with many fears darkening 
this hour of exultation, made her first appear- 
, ance as the Empress of France. The decree 
announcing Napoleon Bonaparte to be the em- 



A.D.1804.] The Coronation. 219 

Josephine's fears. Grand lev§e. Josephine's elevated position. 

peror of France also declared that the imperial 
dignity should be hereditary in his family. The 
empress struggled against her fears, but her 
heart was heavy, and she found but little joy 
upon this high pinnacle of power. She also 
plainly foresaw that the throne of her husband, 
apparently so gorgeous and massive, was erect- 
ed upon a very frail foundation. 

At the grand levee held upon this occasion, 
the assembly was the most brilliant and numer- 
ous that had ever yet been witnessed in Paris. 
The renown of Napoleon now filled the world, 
and noted men from every land thronged his 
saloons. Josephine found herself elevated to the 
position of the most illustrious of the queens of 
Europe. The power of her husband was supe- 
rior to that of any of the surrounding monarchs, 
and she received the homage of all as occupying 
an elevation such as no queen had ever attained 
before. 

<* The second of December, 1804, was appointed 
for the ceremony of coronation. The pageant 
was to take place in the church of Notre Dame. 
The pope came from Rome to place the crown 
upon this lofty, though plebeian brow. For ten 
centuries such an honor had not been conferred 
upon any monarch . The day was clear and brill- 



220 Josephine. [A.D, 1804 



Preparations for the coronation. Drees of Josephine, 

iant, but intensely cold. The venerable walls of 
Notre Dame had never before v^itnessed such 
luxury and such magnificence as was now dis- 
played. Carriages glittering with gold and pur- 
ple trappings ; horses proudly caparisoned ; offi- 
cers in the richest uniforms, and in court dresses 
sumptuously embroidered ; servants in most gor- 
geous liveries ; and a waving sea of ostrich 
plumes, bewildered the multitude with the un- 
wonted splendor. 

% The empress appeared in a robe of white satin, 
embroidered with gold, and profusely ornament- 
ed with diamonds. A mantle of crimson velvet, 
lined with white satin and ermine, floated over her 
shoulders, and golden bees were clustered over 
the dress. The coronation jewels consisted of a 
crown, a diadem, and a girdle. The coronation 
crown consisted of eight golden branches, four 
in imitation of palm, and four of myrtle leaves. 
The dew-drops glittering upon this foliage were 
brilliant diamonds. A golden-corded band sur- 
rounded the crown, embailished with eight very 
large emeralds. The bandeau inclosing the 
head glittered resplendent with amethysts. 
This was the coronation crown, which was used 
only upon state occasions. The diadem, which 
was for more ordinary service, was composed of 



A..D.1804.] The Coronation. 221 

Dress of Napoleon. The imperial carriage. 

four rows of pearls interlaced with diamonds. 
In front were several very large brilliants, one 
of which weighed one hundred and forty-nine 
grains. The ceinture or girdle was of pure gold, 
so pure as to be quite elastic, embellished with 
thirty-nine rose-colored diamonds. 
* Napoleon wore a close dress of white velvet, 
embroidered in gold, with diamond buttons. 
His stockings v/ere of white silk. The robe and 
mantle were of crimson velvet, richly embroid- 
ered in gold and embellished with diamonds. 
Napoleon seemed to regret the vast expense at- 
tending this display, while at the same time he 
was conscious of its importance to impress the 
minds of the Parisians. The emperor was pro- 
fuse in expenditure to promote the grandeur and 
glory of the nation, but very frugal in his per- 
sonal expenses. 

The imperial carriage, constructed expressly 
for the occasion, was the most exquisite piece of 
workmanship Parisian ingenuity could devise. 
It was drawn by eight bay horses. The panel- 
ing was entirely of glass.* As the emperor and 
empress entered the carriage, they both, by mis- 
take, sat down with their backs toward the 
horses. Josephine, immediately perceiving tKe 
error, lightly changed her seat, at the same time 



222 Josephine. [A.D. 1804 

A splendid pageant. The throne 

saying smilingly to her husband, as she point- 
ed to the rich cushion at her side, " Mon ami ! 
unless you prefer riding vis-a-vis, this is your 
seat." Napoleon laughed heartily at the blun- 
der, and changed his seat. Double files of in- 
fantry lined the route of more than a mile and 
a half, extending from the Tuilleries to Notre 
Dame. Ten thousand horsemen, in most gor- 
geous uniforms, attended the carriages. Haifa 
million of spectators thronged the way, crov^^d- 
ing the windows and balconies, clustered upon 
the house-tops, and filling up every space from 
whence any view of the cortege could be gained. 
The air was filled with the martial strains of a 
thousand bands, with the thunders of innumer- 
able pieces of artillery, and with the enthusiastic 
acclamations of the vast multitude. A pageant 
more sublime this world perhaps has never wit- 
nessed. 

The throne, which was hung with crimson 
velvet, was overarched with a canopy of the 
same rich material. It was ascended by twen- 
ty-two circular steps, which were covered with 
blue cloth, studded with golden bees. The most 
illustrious officers of the empire crowded the 
stairs. Napoleon and Josephine sat, side by 
side, upon the throne. The religious ceremony 



m 



A.D.1804.] The Coronation. 225 

Napoleon crowns himself and Josephine. A touching scene. 

occupied nearly four hours. It was interspersed 
with the most soul- stirring music from martial 
bands and from more than three hundred vocal 
performers. When the pope was about to place 
the crown upon the brow of the emperor, Napo- 
leon took it from him, and placed it, with his 
own hands, upon,.his head. He then took it off 
and crowned the empress, also with his own 
hands, fixing his eye proudly, yet most tenderly, 
upon her. The heavy crown was soon after laid 
upon a cushion, while a smaller diadem was 
placed upon the head of Josephine. She kneeled 
before her illustrious consort as he placed the 
crown of France upon her brow. After remain- 
ing for a moment in silence in the posture of 
prayer, with her hands folded over her bosom, 
she then gracefully rose, her eyes swimming in 
tears, and turned to her husband with a look of 
gratitude and of love which the emperor feeling- 
ly recognized. It was a touching scene, and in 
that moment were clustered the memories of 
years. 

But the day was not without its moments 
of anguish for Josephine. In the brief speech 
which the emperor made upon the occasion, he 
said, ^^ My descendants ivill long- sit upon this 
throne.'''' These words were as a dagger to the 
P 



226 Josephine. [A.D. 1804. 

Pious emotions of Josephine. Impatience of Napoleon. 

heart of the empress. She knew Napoleon's in- 
tense desire for an heir. She knew how strong 
the desire in France was that he should have a 
son to whom to transmit his throne. She knew 
how much had been said respecting the neces- 
sity of a divorce. The most infamous proposals 
had been urged upon her by pretended friends, 
even by one of the brothers of Napoleon, that 
she might, by unfaithfulness to him, obviate the 
necessity of Napoleon's seeking another bride. 
This sentiment, uttered upon the day of corona- 
tion, filled her heart with fear and anguish. 

The shades of evening had fallen upon the 
swarming city, and all the streets of the metrop- 
olis and the broad fagade of the Tuilleries were 
glittering with illuminations when the emperor 
and empress returned to the palace. Josephine, 
overcome with the conflicting emotions which 
the day had excited, retired to her apartment, 
and, falling upon her knees, with tears implored 
. the guidance of the King of kings. Napoleon 
hastened to his room, exclaiming impatiently 
to an attendant as he entered, '' Off, off with 
these confounded trappings !" He threw the 
mantle into one corner of the room, and the gor- 
geous rojjj^ into another, and, thus violently dis- 
encumbering himself, declared that hours of 



A.D. 1804.] The Coronation. 227 

Josephine's forebodings fulfilled. Desires to forget her title. 

such mortal tediousness he had never encoun- 
tered before. 

Josephine, in her remonstrances with Napo- 
leon against assuming the crown, predicted, 
with almost prophetic accuracy, the conse- 
quences which would ensue. "Will not your 
power," she wrote to him, '' opposed, as to a cer- 
tainty it must be, by the neighboring states, 
draw you into a war with them? This will 
probably end in their ruin. Will not their 
neighbors, beholding these effects, combine for 
your destruction? While abroad such is the 
state of things, at home how numerous the en- 
vious and discontented ! How many plots to 
disconcert, and how many conspiracies to pun- 
ish." 

Soon after the coronation, Josephine was one 
morning in her garden, when an intimate friend 
called to see her. She saluted the empress by 
the title of Your Majesty. '' Ah I" she ex- 
claimed, in tones deeply pathetic, "I entreat 
that you will suffer me, at least here, to forget 
that I am an empress." It is the unvarying 
testimony of her friends, that, while she was 
receiving with surpassing gracefulness the con- 
gratulations of France and of Europdpher heart 
was heavy. She clearly foresaw the peril of 



228 Josephine. [A.D. 1804. 

Josephine's regrets. Corniption of the court of France. 

their position, and trembled in view of an ap- 
proaching downfall. The many formal cere- 
monies which her station required, and upon 
which Napoleon laid great stress, were exceed- 
ingly irksome to one whose warm heart rejoiced 
in the familiarity of unrestrained friendship. 
She thus described her feelings : " The nearer 
my husband approached the summit of earthly 
greatness, the more dim became my last gleams 
of happiness. It is true that I enjoyed a mag- 
nificent existence. My court was composed of 
gentlemen and ladies the most illustrious in 
rank, all of whom were emulous of the honor 
of being presented to me. But my time was 
no longer at my command. The emperor was 
receiving from every part of France congratula- 
tions upon his accession to the throne, while I 
myself sighed in contemplating the immense 
power he had acquired. The more I saw him 
loaded with the gifts of Fortune, the more I 
feared his Jail." 

The court of France had for ages been the 
scene of the most voluptuous and unblushing 
vice. The whole nation had been corrupted by 
its influence. Dissipation had been rendered 
attractiv# by the grace with which it had been 
robed. The dissolute manners which had pre- 



A.D.1804.] The Coronation. 229 

Napoleon scrupulous in forming his court. The Duchess d'Aiguillon. 

vailed at Versailles, the Tuilleries, and St. 
Cloud no pen can describe. Napoleon determ- 
ined that, at all hazards, his court should be 
reputable at least in outward morality. He 
was more scrupulous upon this point even than 
Josephine herself. Believing that the downfall 
of the Bourbons was caused, in no inconsidera- 
ble degree, by the dissolute lives of the nobles 
and the courtiers, he would give no one an ap- 
pointment among the royal retinue whose char- 
acter was not, in his judgment, above reproach. 

The Duchess d'Aiguillon had been a fellow- 
captive of Josephine, and, after their liberation 
from prison, had greatly befriended her. Dur- 
ing the license of those times, in which all the 
restraints of Christian morality had been swept 
away, her character had not remained perfectly 
spotless. She and her husband had availed 
themselves of the facile liberty of divorce which 
the laws had encouraged, and had formed other 
unions. Josephine felt grateful for the many 
favors she had received from the (Tuchess, and 
wished to testify this gratitude by receiving her 
at court. Napoleon peremptorily refused. Jo- 
sephine wrote to her in the following terms : 

" My dear Friend, — I am deeply afflicted. 
My former friends, supposing that I am able to 



230 Josephine. [A.D. 1804. 

Letter from Josephine to the Duchess d'Aiguillon. 

obtain the fulfillment of all my wishes, must 
suppose that I have forgotten the past. Alas ! 
it is not so. I remember it too well, and my 
thoughts dwell upon it more than I would have 
them. The more I think of what my friends 
did for me, the greater is my sorrow at being 
unable to do now what my heart dictates. The 
Empress of France is but the first slave in the 
empire, and can not pay the debts of Madame 
de Beauharnais. This constitutes the torture 
of my life, and will explain why you do not oc- 
cupy a place near me. The emperor, indignant 
at the total disregard of morahty, and alarmed 
at the progress it might still make, is resolved 
that the example of a life of regularity and of 
religion shall be presented in the palace where 
he reigns. Desirous of strengthening more and 
more the Church re-established by himself, and 
unable to change the laws appointed by her ob- 
servances, his intention is, at least, to keep at 
a distance from his court all who may have 
availed themselves of the opportunity for a di- 
vorce. Hence the cause of his refusing the fa- 
vor I asked of having you with me. The re- 
fusal has occasioned me unspeakable regret, 
but he is too absolute to leave even the hope of 
seeing him retract. I am thus constrained to 



A.D.1804.] The Coronation. 231 



Josephine not her own mistress. 



renounce the pleasure I had promised myself 
of being constantly with you, studying to make 
you forget the sovereign in the friend. Pity 
my lot in being too public a personage to follow 
my own inclination, and cherish for me a friend- 
ship, the remembrance of which gives me now 
as much pleasure as its reality afforded conso- 
lation in prison. Often do I regret that small, 
dark, and dismal chamber which we shared to- 
gether, for there, at least, I could pour out my 
whole heart, and was sincerely beloved in re- 
turn." 



232 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

Coronation fetes. Ascent of a balloon. 



Chapter XL 

Josephine an Empress. 

nrVURING the whole month succeeding the 
-^■^ coronation, Paris was surrendered to fetes, 
illuminations, and all manner of public rejoic- 
ing. One morning the empress found in her 
apartment, as a present from the municipality 
of the capital, a toilet service, with table, ewer, 
and basin of massive gold, wrought with most 
exquisite workmanship. An enormous balloon, 
in the form of the imperial crown, brilliantly 
illuminated, was launched, the evening of the 
coronation, from Paris. The vast structure, 
weighing ^yq hundred pounds, floated most 
majestically over the city, for a time the object 
of the gaze of a million of eyes, till, borne away 
by the wind toward the south, it disappeared. 
The next evening it fell near the city of Rome, 
nine hundred miles from Paris. " Sire," said 
a courtier, announcing the fact to Napoleon, 
" your imperial crown has appeared in the two 
great capitals of the world within the space of 
twenty-four hours." 



A.D.1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 283 

The Italians petition Napoleon to be their king. Crossing the Alps. 

As soon as Napoleon was crowned Emperor 
of France, the senators of the Italian Republic, 
over which he had been elected president, sent 
an earnest petition that he would be crowned 
their king at Milan. Napoleon had rescued 
them from the hated dominion of the Austrians, 
and they regarded him as their greatest bene- 
factor. *The emperor was in the habit of set- 
ting out on his various tours without any warn- 
ing. One evening, when the festivities of the 
baptism of the second son of Hortense had been 
kept up until midnight, Napoleon said quietly, 
upon retiring, " Horses at six for Italy." Jose- 
phine accompanied her husband upon this tour. 
The road bridging the Alps, which Napoleon 
subsequently constructed, was then but con- 
templated. It was only by a rugged and dan- 
gerous foot-path that the ascent of these awful 
barriers of nature could be surmounted. Two 
beautiful sedans had been constructed in Turin 
for the emperor and empress. The one for 
Napoleon was lined with crimson silk, richly 
ornamented with gold. Josephine's was trim- 
med with blue satin, similarly ornamented with 
silver. The sedans were, however, but little 
used, except in places where walking was dan- 
gerous, as the empress very much preferred 



234 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Happiness of Josephine. Views from the Alps. 

leaning upon the arm of her husband, and, in 
conversation v^ith him, gazing upon the wild 
sublimities with which they were surrounded. 
This must have been to Josephine, independ- 
ently of those inward anxieties which weighed 
so heavily upon her heart, as delightful a jour- 
ney as a mortal can enjoy. All Europe was 
bowing in homage before her illustrious hus- 
band. He was in the possession of power such 
as the proudest of the CsBsars might have en- 
vied. Illuminations, and triumphal arches, and 
enthusiastic acclamations met them every step 
of their way. Josephine was in the possession 
of every possible acquisition earth could give to 
make her happy, save only one — her husband 
was not a father. But Josephine forgot her so- 
licitudes in the exultant hours when her hus- 
band, from the pinnacles of the Alps, pointed 
out to her the glories of sunny Italy — the scenes 
of past perils, and conflict, and renown — the 
fields in which he had led the armies of France 
to the most brilliant victories. Napoleon was 
in fine spirits, and in these gilded hours he 
looked lovingly upon her, and they both were 
truly happy. It is difficult for the imagination 
to conceive any thing more attractive for a 
warm-hearted and an enthusiastic woman than 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 235 

Splendid fete on the field of Marengo. 

to pass over these most sublime of the barriers 
of nature, with Napoleon for a guide and a con- 
fiding friend. Pope Pius VII., who had formed 
a very strong friendship for Josephine, accom- 
panied them as far as Turin. When parting, 
the empress made him a present of a beautiful 
vase of Sevres china, embellished with exquisite 
paintings of the coronation. 

From Turin Napoleon took Josephine to the 
field of Marengo. He had assembled upon that 
great battle plain, which his victory has immor- 
talized, thirty thousand troops, that Josephine 
might behold, in the mimicry of war, the dread- 
ful scenes which had deluged those fields in blood. 
It was the fifth of May, and a bright Italian sun 
shone down upon the magnificent pageant. A 
vast elevation was constructed in the middle of 
the plain, from which, seated upon a lofty throne, 
the emperor and empress overlooked the whole 
«. .field. * Napoleon decorated himself upon the oc- 
casion with the same war-worn garments — the 
battered hat, the tempest-torn cloak, the coat of 
faded blue, and the long cavalry saber which he 
had worn amid the carnage and the terror of 
that awful day. Many of the veterans who had 
been engaged in the action were present. Napo- 
leon and Josephine came upon the ground in a 



236 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

A sublime spectacle. Triumphal entry into Milan. 

magnificent chariot, drawn by eight horses. The 
moment he appeared upon the plain, one general 
shout of acclamation from thirty thousand ador- 
ing voices rent the sky. After the mimic battle 
was ended, the soldiers defiled before the emperor 
and empress, while he conferred, upon those who 
had signalized themselves in the day of Marengo, 
the decorations of the Legion of Honor. The 
gorgeous uniform of the men, the rich capari- 
sons and proud bearing of the horses, the clangor 
of innumerable trumpets and martial bands, the 
glitter of gold and steel, the deafening thunders 
of artillery and musketry, filling the air with one 
incessant and terrific war ; the dense volumes 
of sulphurous smoke rolling heavily over the 
plain, shutting out the rays of an unclouded sun, 
all combined to produce an effect upon the spec- 
tators never to be effaced. 

On the eighth of May, 1805, they made their 
triumphal entry into the city of Milan. While 
the whole city was absorbed in those f^tes and 
rejoicings which preceded the coronation, the in- 
exhaustible mind of Napoleon was occupied in 
planning those splendid public buildings and 
those magnificent improvements which still com- 
memorate the almost superhuman energy of his 
reign. The iron crown of Charlemagne, which 



A.B. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 237 

The coronation. Napoleon again crowns himself and Josephine. 

for a thousand years had pressed no brow, was 
brought forth from its mausoleum to add the at- 
traction of deep poetic sentiment to the corona- 
tion. The ceremony took place on the twenty- 
sixth of May, in the Cathedral of Milan. The 
coronation was conducted with magnificence not 
even surpassed by the ceremony in Notre Dame. 
The empress first made her appearance, most 
gorgeously dressed, and glittering with dia- 
monds. She was personally loved by the Milan- 
ese, and was greeted with the most enthusiastic 
acclamations. A moment after, the emperor 
himself entered, by another door. He was ar- 
rayed in imperial robes of velvet, purple, and 
gold, with the diadem upon his brow, and the 
iron crown and scepter of Charlemagne in his 
hands. *. Napoleon, as in the coronation at Paris, 
refused to receive the crown from the hands of 
another, but placed it himself upon his head, re- 
peating aloud the historical words, '^ God has 
given it to me ; woe to him who touches it." 
Josephine then knelt upon an altar at his feet, 
and was again crowned by her husband. 

Josephine remained with the emperor in Mi- 
lan for nearly a month. He was busy night and 
day in commencing improvements of the most 
majestic character. The Italians still look back 



238 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Entertainments at Milan. Anecdote 

to the reign of Napoleon as the brightest period 
in their history. The gay Milanese surren- 
dered themselves, during his stay, to one con- 
tinued scene of festivity. One day Josephine 
and Napoleon had broken away from courtiers 
and palaces, and all the pageantry of state, and 
had retreated for a few hours to the retirement 
and solitude of a beautiful little island in one of 
the lakes in that vicinity. They entered the 
cabin of a poor woman. She had no idea of the 
illustrious character of her guests, and, in an- 
swer to their kind inquiries, opened to them the 
story of her penury, her toils, and her anxiety to 
bring up her three children, as the father often 
could obtain no work. ' ' Now how much money, 
my good woman," inquired Napoleon, "would 
you like to have to make you perfectly happy ?" 
" Ah ! sir," she replied, " a great deal of money 
I should want." " But how much should you 
desire if you could have your wish." *' Oh, sir, 
I should want as much as twenty louis (about 
eighty dollars) ; but what prospect is there of 
our ever having twenty louis ?" The emperor 
poured into her lap three thousand francs (about 
six hundred dollars) in glittering gold. For a 
few moments she was speechless in bewilder- 
ment ; at length, trembling with emotion, she 



A.D.1805.] Josephine an Empress. 239 

Reception at Genoa. A floating garden. 

said, " Ah I sir — ah ! madam, this is a great deal 
too much. And yet you do not look as if you 
could sport with the feelings of a poor woman." 
''No I" Josephine replied, in the most gentle ac- 
cents. " The money is all yours. "With it you 
can now rent a piece of ground, purchase a flock 
of goats, and I hope you will be able to bring up 
your children comfortably." 
^ From Milan the emperor and empress con- 
tinued their tour to Genoa. The restless mind 
of Napoleon was weary even of the swiftest speed 
of the horses, and though they drove from post 
to post with the utmost possible rapidity, so that 
it was necessary continually to throw water upon 
the glowing axle, he kept calling from his car- 
riage, " On ! on ! we do not go fast enough." 
Their reception at Genoa was unequaled by 
any thing they had before witnessed. In the 
beautiful bay a floating garden of orange-trees 
and rare plants and shrubbery was constructed 
in honor of Josephine. In the principal church of 
"Genoa the Superb," the emperor and empress 
received the allegiance of the most prominent in- 
habitants. The fetes on this occasion almost 
surpassed the creations of fancy. The senses 
were bewildered by the fairy illusions thrown 
around the gorgeous spectacle. The city, with 



240 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

A gorgeous spectacle. Josephine's obedience to Napoleon. 

all its picturesque beauty of embattled forts and 
craggy shores — the serenity and brilliance of 
Italian skies in May — the blue expanse of the 
Mediterranean — the marble palaces and glitter- 
ing domes which embellished the streets — the 
lovely bay whitened with sails — all combined 
to invest the gorgeous spectacle with attractions 
such as are rarely witnessed. From Genoa 
they proceeded to Paris, every where accompa- 
nied by the thunders of artillery and the blaze 
of illuminations. 

Josephine was not unfrequently under the 
necessity of taking journeys unaccompanied by 
the emperor. On such occasions the tireless 
mind of Napoleon arranged every particular 
with the utmost precision. A manuscript was 
placed in her hand, describing the route she was 
to take, the places at which she was to stop, 
the addresses or replies she was to make to 
public functionaries, the expenses she was to 
incur, and even the presents she was to make. 
On such excursions, Josephine every morning 
most carefully studied her lesson for the day 
She took great pleasure in obeying his directions 
exactly, exposing herself to great inconvenien- 
ces rather than to allow herself to deviate in 
the slightest particular from the written direc- 



A.D.1805.] Josephine AN Empress. Ml 

DiiScult road through the forest of Ardennes. _ , 

tions. She was ever unwilling to listen to any 
suggestions for change. A very interesting il- 
lustration of her scrupulous adherence to man- 
uscript instructions occurred in her journey to 
Liege. 

Napoleon, in the directions given to Jose- 
phine, had marked out her route by a road 
through the forest of Ardennes. Napoleon had 
ordered that road to be constructed, and sup- 
posed that it was completed. It was, howev- 
er, only partially made, and it was considered 
quite unsafe to attempt to pass over it with car- 
riages. She inquired if it were possible to pass. 
Being told that it was possible, perhaps, but 
that the attempt would be attended with great 
difficulty and danger, she replied, ** Very well, 
then ; we will at least try." Some of the la- 
dies accompanying her entreated her to take 
another route. ''No," she replied; "Napoleon 
has requested me to take this road, and his 
wishes are my law." Josephine persevered in 
the attempt, and accomphshed the passage 
through, though with very great difficulty. In 
many places the workmen on the road had to 
support the carriages with ropes and poles to 
prevent an overturn. It rained during much 
of the journey. Josephine and her ladies were 

Q 



242 Josephine. [A,D. 1805. 

Josephine receives a lecture. . Her mind well stored. 

often compelled to alight, and to walk for some 
distance nearly ankle deep in mud and water. 
Josephine endured all with the utmost good 
nature. She was cheered by the assurance 
that she was following the wishes of her hus- 
band. Many of her attendants, however, were 
excessively annoyed by the hardships they en- 
countered. The carriage of the first femme- 
de-chambre was actually overturned, and the 
irritated serving- woman could not restrain her 
expressions of impatience and displeasure. At 
last one of the distinguished ladies of the court 
took it upon herself to lecture the empress so 
roundly for her blind subservience to the direc- 
tions of Napoleon, that Josephine burst into 
tears. 

Josephine, by conversation, observation, and 
reading, was continually storing her mind with 
valuable information. In the various journeys 
she took, she was always accompanied by per- 
sons of intelligence, and who were well ac- 
quainted with the country. While traveling, 
she directed her conversation almost exclusively 
upon the scenes through which they were pass- 
ing. Every thing of interest was carefully 
treasured up in her memory, and if she learned 
any incident coimected with the past fortunes 



A.D.1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 243 

Her kindness to her attendants. Visits the baths at Aix, 

of any of the families of the ladies who were 
with her, she never failed to send a special mes- 
senger with the information, and to point out 
the places where such incidents occurred. She 
seemed thus to be continually studying for op- 
portunities of manifesting kind and delicate at- 
tentions to the ladies of her household. She 
thus secured a universality and a fervor of af- 
fection such as has rarely been attained. On 
these pleasure excursions, the restraints of the 
court were laid aside, and there were all the 
joyous commingling and affectionate familiari- 
ty which prevail among intimate friends. 

Napoleon, aware of the vast influence which 
the pomp of regal state exerts upon the human 
mind, was very particular in his court in the 
observance of all the etiquette of royalty. Jo- 
sephine, however, was always disposed to es- 
cape from the exactions of the code ceremonial 
whenever she could do so with propriety. A 
curious instance of this occurred at Aix la 
Chapelle, where the empress was passing a few 
days for the benefit of the baths. One evening 
she was sitting, with her ladies around her, 
weary of the lassitude of a fashionable water- 
ing-place, when some one suggested that, to 
while away an hour, they should visit a cele- 



244 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Josephine and her ladies proceed on foot to visit the model of Paris. 

brated model of Paris, which was then on ex- 
hibition. The chevalier of honor was about to 
order the imperial carriages and the cortege, 
when Josephine, to his utter consternation, pro- 
posed that they should go on foot. She was 
sure, she said, that the citizens of Aix la Cha- 
pelle were so kindly disposed toward her, that 
there could be no possible danger. The chev- 
alier, as far as he dared to do, urged his remon- 
strances against such a breach of imperial deco- 
rum ; but^he ladies of the court were all de- 
lighted wirn the plan of Josephine, and they 
set out on foot, a brilliant party of ladies and 
gentlemen, to visit the exhibition. As the citi- 
zens, of course, knew nothing about this unex- 
pected movement, there was no crowd in the 
streets to impede their way, and they proceed- 
ed without any difficulty, and very pleasantly, 
to the place of their destination. But the in- 
telligence of the adventure of the court, so novel 
and so unprecedented, was immediately noised 
throughout the town. From every section of 
the city, throngs, allured by curiosity and love 
for Josephine, began to pour into the streets 
through which they were to pass to see them 
return. The citizens occupying the dwellings 
.and the shops which lined the streets, instant- 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 245 

Enthusiasm of the people. The party return on foot. 

ly, and as if by magic, illuminated their win- 
dows. A thousand hands were busy in the 
eager and love-incited toil. The party spent 
an hour examining the beautiful model of the 
metropolis, and then emerged again into the 
street. To their surprise, and not a little to 
their consternation, they found their path blaz- 
ing with illuminations. Their whole route was 
filled with a dense throng of men, women, and 
children, all eager to catch a glimpse of their 
beloved empress, and of the brilliant suite which 
accompanied her. 

The ladies recoiled from attempting the pas- 
sage on foot through such a crowd, and pro- 
posed sending for the carriages and escort. 
Josephine, apprehensive that some accident 
might occur in attempting to drive the horses 
through such a dense mass of people, would not 
listen to the suggestion. *' Were any one to 
be injured," she said, " of these friends whom 
our imprudence has assembled, I never could 
forgive myself." Taking the arm of the chev- 
alier, she led the way through the crowd. The 
ladies all followed, each supported by the arm 
of some nobleman of the court. The populace 
respectfully opened before them, and closed up 
behind. The plumes, and diamonds, and gay 



246 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

Josephine's candor. Fond of breakfasting in the open air. 

attire of the court shone brilliantly in the blaze 
of light which was shed upon them from the il- 
luminated windows. The enthusiastic accla- 
mations of the populace greeted the empress 
until she arrived, in perfect safety, at her resi- 
dence. As soon as she entered her saloon, with 
her accustomed frankness she thanked the 
chevalier for the advice which he had given, 
and confessed that, in not following it, she had 
been guilty of imprudence, which might have 
been attended by very serious consequences, y^ 

When traveling unaccompanied by the em- 
peror, she was fond of breakfasting in the open 
air, upon some green lawn, beneath the shade 
of venerable trees, or upon some eminence, 
where her eye could feast upon the sublimities 
of Nature, which are so attractive to every en- 
nobled mind. The peasantry, from a respectful 
distance, would look upon the dazzling specta- 
cle perfectly bewildered and awe-stricken. The 
service of silver and of gold, the luxurious vi- 
ands, the gorgeous display of graceful female 
attire, and uniforms and liveries, all combined 
to invest the scene, in their eyes, with a splen- 
dor almost more than earthly. 

On one occasion, a mother's love and pride 
triumphed over even her scrupulous obedience 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine AN Empress. |^247 

The presentation. Josephine's maternal sensitiveness. 

to the wishes of Napoleon. Napoleon and Jo- 
sephine, accompanied by Eugene and a very 
magnificent retinue, were at Mayence. There 
was to be a grand presentation of the German 
princes to the emperor and empress. Eugene, 
the son of the empress, according to the laws 
of court etiquette, should have been included 
with Napoleon and Josephine in the presenta- 
tion. By some oversight, his name was omit- 
ted. As Josephine glanced her eye over the' 
programme, she noticed the omission, and point- 
ed it out to Napoleon. As the arrangements had 
all been made by him, he was not a little piqued 
in finding himself at fault as to a point of eti- 
quette, and insisted upon following the pro- 
gramme. Josephine, ever ready to make any 
personal sacrifice to meet the wishes of Napo- 
leon, could not be induced to sacrifice the sensi- 
tive feelings of her son. ^' I had no desire," she 
said, '' for the honors of coronation ; but, since 
I have been crowned, my son must be treated 
as the son of an empress." Napoleon yielded, 
not, however, with very good grace. 

Two of the princesses of Baden, on this occa- 
sion, accompanied Josephine to the opera. The 
evening air was chilly, and the empress, observ- 
ing that they were very thinly clad, spread over 



248 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

An expensive compliment. A delightful excursion. 

the shoulders of each of them one of her rich 
white Cashmere shawls. These shawls were of 
the most costly texture, and had been purchased 
at an expense of several thousand dollars. The 
next morning the elder of the princesses sent a 
note, full of complimentary terms, to Josephine, 
expressing their infinite obligation for her kind- 
ness, and stating that they would keep the 
shawls in remembrance of one they so greatly 
admired. 

On these journeys Napoleon was full of pleas- 
antry, and very agreeable. Josephine often 
spoke of this excursion to Mayence in particular 
as the most delightful that she had ever made 
with the emperor. They were met at every 
step on their route with the most enthusiastic 
testimonials of a nation's love and gratitude. 
And Napoleon had at this time conferred bene- 
fits upon France which richly entitled him to all 
this homage. In subsequent years, when intox- 
icated by the almost boundless empire he had 
obtained, and when, at a still later period, he 
was struggling, with the energies of despair, 
against Europe, in arms to crush him, he resort- 
ed to acts which very considerably impaired his 
good name. Josephine, in her journal during 
this journey, speaks of the common, but errone- 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 249 

Personal habits of Napoleon. He sleeps on the field of battle. 

ous impression, that Napoleon could work con- 
stantly and habitually with very few hours de- 
voted to sleep. She says that this was an erro- 
neous impression. If the emperor rose at a very 
early hour in the morning, he would frequent- 
ly retire at nine o'clock in the evening. And 
when, on extraordinary occasions, he passed 
many nights together in almost sleepless activ- 
ity, he had the faculty of catching short naps 
at intervals in his carriage, and even on horse- 
back.' After many days and nights of prepara- 
tion for some great conflict, he has been known 
even to fall asleep upon the field of battle, in the 
midst of all the horrors of the sanguinary scene. 
At the battle of Bautzen, for instance. Napoleon 
was extremely fatigued by the exertions and 
sleeplessness of the two preceding days and 
nights. He fell asleep several times when seat- 
ed on an eminence, overlooking the field of bat- 
tle, and which was frequently reached by the 
cannon balls of the enemy. Napoleon, at St. 
Helena, when alluding to this fact, said that 
Nature had her rights, which could not be vio- 
lated with impunity ; and that he felt better pre- 
pared to issue fresh orders, or to consider the 
reports which were brought, when awaking 
from these momentary slumbers. Though. Na- 



250 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Napoleon's wonderful mental activity. Retirement at Malmaison. 

poleon could not set at defiance the established 
laws of our mental and physical nature, words 
can hardly convey an adequate idea of the inde- 
fatigable activity of his mind, or of his extraor- 
dinary powers of enduring mental and bodily fa- 

V tigue. * Few have ever understood better the art 
of concentrating the attention upon one thing at 
a time. Often, on his campaigns, after reading 
the dispatches, and dictating orders to one set 
of secretaries during the whole day, he would 
throw himself, for an hour, upon his sofa, in- 
stantly fall into the soundest sleep, and then, 
summoning to his presence a new relay of sec- 
retaries, would keep them incessantly occupied 

*" till morning. •" To keep himself awake on such 
occasions, he resorted to strong coffee. It was 
only under the pressure of great necessity that 
he thus overtasked his Herculean powers. 

Occasionally, when Napoleon was absent on 
his campaigns, Josephine would retire to Mal- 
maison, and become deeply interested in rural 
occupations. She had a large and very fine 
flock of merino sheep, and she took great pleas- 
ure in superintending their culture. A detach- 
ment of the imperial guard was, on such occa- 
sions, appointed to do duty at Malmaison. One 
evening the empress, sitting up till a later hour 



A.D.1805.] Josephine an Empress. 251 

Anecdote. Instructions to a lady respecting etiquette. 

than usual, heard the sound of footsteps passing 
to and fro beneath her window. She sent for 
the officer of the guard, and inquired what it 
meant. He informed her that it was the sentry, 
who was appointed to keep watch beneath her 
window all night. '' Sir," she replied, '' I have 
no need of a night-guard. These brave soldiers 
have enough to suffer from the hardships of war 
when they are under the necessity of going to 
the field of battle. In my service they must 
have repose. I wish them here to have no sleep- 
less nights." 

It is said that rather a ludicrous occurrence 
took place in one of the cities of the Rhine, in 
reference to a visit which the emperor and em- 
press were about to make to that place. One 
of the distinguished ladies of the city, who was 
anticipating the honor of a presentation, wrote 
to obtain from the master of the ceremonies 
instructions respecting the etiquette to be ob- 
served. The answer contained very minute 
directions, and was couched in terms which 
conveyed a deep impression of their importance. 
Among other things, it was stated that three 
courtesies were to be made ; one immediately 
upon entering the saloon, one in the middle of 
the room, and a third, en pirouette, when hav- 



252 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

The court at Cologne. Ett pirouette. 

mg arrived within a few paces of the emperor 
and empress. The familiar signification of en 
pirouette is whirling the body around rapidly 
upon the toes of one foot, the other foot being 
rather indecorously raised. The ladies assem- 
bled to study these instructions; and though 
some of the young, the beautiful, and the grace- 
ful were not unwilling thus to display their 
lightness of limb, there were others who read 
en pirouette with consternation. » The vast im- 
* portance which Napoleon attached to every 
form of etiquette was well known. There was 
no alternative ; the fat and the lean, the tall 
and the short, the graceful and the awkward, 
all were to approach their majesties en pirou- 
ette, or to lose the honor of a presentation. 
"We have a fortnight for practice," said one 
of the ladies ; "let us prepare ourselves." For 
fifteen days all the drawing-rooms of Cologne 
seemed to be filled with dancing dervises. Ven- 
erable dowagers were twirling like opera girls, 
and not unfrequently measuring their portly 
length upon the carpet. En pirouette was the 
theme of every tongue, and the scene, morning, 
noon, and evening, in every ambitious saloon. 

On the evening of the arrival of the emperor 
and empress, the same lady who had written 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 253 

An amusing misunderstanding. Josephine accused of extravagance. 

the letter for instructions called upon one of 
the ladies of the court for still more precise di- 
rections. She then learned that, in court phrase, 
en pirouette simply indicated a slight inclina- 
tion of the body toward their majesties, accom- 
panying the courtesy. The intelligence was 
immediately disseminated through Cologne, to 
the great relief of some, and, probably, not a 
little to the disappointment of others. Jose- 
phine was exceedingly amused at the recital of 
this misunderstanding. 

c Josephine was often accused of extravagance. 
Her expenditures were undoubtedly very great. 
She attached no value to money but as a means 
of promoting happiness. She was, perhaps, too 
easily persuaded to purchase of those who were 
ever urging upon her the most costly articles, 
and appealing powerfully to her sympathies to 
induce her to buy. It was difficult for Jose- 
phine to turn a deaf ear to a tale of distress. 
Napoleon was ever ready to spend millions upon 
millions in great public improvements, but he 
was not willing to have any money wasted. 
Josephine gave away most liberally in charity, 
and the emperor, at times, complained a little 
of the large sums which escaped through her 
hands. In replying once to a friend, who told 



254 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Josephine is charged by Napoleon with indiscretion. 

her that she was deemed extravagant, she said, 
"When I have money, you know how I em- 
ploy it. I give it principally to the unfortu- 
nate, who solicit my assistance, and to the poor 
emigrants. But I will try to be more econom- 
ical in future. Tell the emperor so if you see 
him again. But is it not my duty to bestow 
as much charity as I can ?" 

^On one occasion Napoleon was much dis- 
pleased by hearing that Josephine had suffered 
General Lorges, the commandant at Aix la 
Chapelle, a young and handsome man, to be 
guilty of the indiscretion of sitting upon the 
same sofa with the empress. He reproached 
her with much severity for permitting such in- 
decorum. Josephine explained the circumstan- 
ces. Instead of its being General Lorges who 
had thus violated the rules of courtly propriety, 
it was one of the aged and veteran generals of 
Napoleon's army, who, inured to the hardships 
of the camp, was entirely unacquainted with 
the politeness of courts. He had been present- 
ed to Josephine, and, without any conscious- 
ness of the impropriety of which he was guilty, 
immediately seated himself upon the same sofa 
with the empress. Josephine was unwilling to 
wound the feelings of the honest-hearted old 



A.D.1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 255 

The explanation. Marriage of Eugene. Happiness of Josephine. 

soldier, and permitted him to retain his seat 
until he withdrew. Napoleon was perfectly 
satisfied with the explanation, and, upon re- 
ceiving it, manifested renewed indications of 
the affection and esteem with which he regard- 
ed the empress. 

About this time Josephine was informed of 
the contemplated alliance between Eugene and 
the Princess-royal of Bavaria. She was soon 
summoned to Munich to attend their nuptials, 
and there again was united to those she so dear- 
ly loved. The bride of Eugene was in every 
respect worthy of him, and Josephine rejoiced 
over the happiness of her son. The victorious 
emperor and empress then returned to Paris, ac- 
companied by a crowd of princes from the vari- 
ous courts of Germany. Josephine was now 
upon the very summit of earthly grandeur. 
Europe lay prostrate at the feet of her husband. 
Hor tense was Queen of Holland. Eugene was 
Viceroy of Italy, and son-in-law to the King of 
Bavaria. Napoleon, fixing his affections upon 
the eldest child of Hortense, appeared to have 
relinquished the plan of the divorce, and to have 
contemplated the recognition of this child — the 
brother of Louis Napoleon, now President of the 
French Republic — as the heir of his crown. The 



256 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Josephine universally beloved. Her habit of journalizing. 

embarrassment which had at times accompanied 
their interviews had consequently passed away. 
Napoleon was proud of Josephine, and often said 
that there was no woman in the world to be com- 
pared with her. The empress was happy. All 
France was filled with stories of her active be- 
nevolence and her sympathy with the sorrowful. 
Wherever she made her appearance, she was 
greeted with the acclamations of the most en- 
thusiastic attachment. 

Of the many tours which Josephine took with 
Napoleon, she frequently kept a journal, noting 
down the events of interest which occurred. 
The fragments of these journals, which have ap- 
peared before the public, beautifully exhibit the 
literary taste and the benevolence of heart of 
the empress. The following is an extract : 

*' About two leagues from Bayonne the em- 
peror was presented with a spectacle worthy of 
him. On the declivity of a mountain, gently 
scooped out in different parts of its descent, is 
pitched one of those camps which the foresight 
of the country has provided for its defenders. It 
is composed of seven handsome barracks, differ- 
ent in form and aspect, each isolated, surrounded 
with an orchard in full bearing, a well-stocked 
poultry-yard, and, at different distances, a great- 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 257 

Beautiful extract from one of her journals. 

er or less quantity of arable land, where a divers- 
ity of soil yields a variety of produce. One side 
of the mountain is w^ild, but picturesque, with 
rocks and plants. The other seems covered with 
rich tapestry, so varied and numerous are the 
plots of highly-cultivated ground. The summit 
is clothed with an ever-verdant forest. Down 
the center, in a deep channel, flows a limpid 
stream, refreshing and fertilizing the whole 
scene. On this spot, the veterans who occupy 
it gave a fete to the emperor which was at once 
military and rural. The wives, daughters, and 
little children of these brave men formed the 
most pleasing, as they were themselves the no- 
blest ornament of the festival. Amid piles of 
arms were seen beautiful shrubs covered with 
flowers, while the echoes of the mountain re- 
sounded to the bleating of flocks and the warlike 
strains of a soldiery intoxicated on thus receiv- 
ing their chief. The emperor raised this enthu- 
siasm to the highest pitch by sitting down at a 
table at once quite military and perfectly pas- 
toral. I dare not mention the attentions of which 
I was the object. They affected me deeply. I 
regarded them as proofs of that veneration which 
France has vowed to the emperor." 

The infamous Ferdinand of Spain, who was 
R 



258 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Ferdinand of Spain. A picturesque scene, 

then claiming the throne, in a disgraceful quar- 
rel with his equally infamous father, sent an 
embassador to Bayonne to meet the emperor. 
Ferdinand, with the utmost servility, was court- 
ing the support of Napoleon. The embassador 
possessed, some leagues from Bayonne, an exten- 
sive farm, on which were bred numerous flocks 
of merinoes. " Thither," writes Josephine, " un- 
der a plausible pretext, we were conducted to- 
day. After a feast of really rustic magnificence, 
we made the tour of the possession on foot. At 
the bottom of a verdant dell, surrounded on all 
sides by rocks, covered with moss and flowers, 
all of a sudden a picturesque cot appeared, 
lightly suspended on a projecting point of rock. 
Around it were feeding seven or eight hundred 
sheep of the most beautiful breed . We could not 
restrain a cry of admiration. Upon the emper- 
or addressing some compliments to the embassa- 
dor, he declared that these flocks belonged to me. 
* The king, my master,' he added, ' knows the 
empress's taste for rural occupations, and as this 
species of sheep is little known in France, and 
will constitute the principal ornament, and, con- 
sequently, wealth of a farm, he entreats her not 
to deprive herself of an offering at once so use- 
ful and so agreeable.' * Don Pedro,' replied the 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 259 

Routine of life. Account thereof by a valet de chambre. 

emperor, with a tone of severity, ' the empress 
can not accept a present save from the hand of 
a king, and your master is not yet one. Wait, 
before making your offering, till your own na- 
tion and I have decided.' " 

The ordinary routine of life with her, as em- 
press, was as follows. Constant, the valet de 
chambre of Napoleon, gives the following ac- 
count of the commencement of the day. ''I 
had a regular order to enter the emperor's apart- 
ment at seven o'clock. When the empress 
passed the night there, it was a very unusual 
occurrence not to find the august spouses awake. 
The emperor commonly asked for tea or an in- 
fusion of orange-flowers, and rose immediately 
after. In the course of a few minutes the em- 
press rose also, and, putting on a loose morning- 
gown, either read the journals while the emper- 
or dressed, or retired by a private access to her 
own apartments, but never without addressing 
some kind and condescending words to myself." ^ 

Josephine invariably commenced her morn- 
ing toilet at nine o'clock. This occupied an 
hour, and then she passed into a saloon where 
she received those who had obtained the favor 
of a morning presentation. A great many pe- 
titions tverc presented her on such occasions, 



260 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Jloming occupations. Literary enjoyments. 

and, with unvarying kindness, she manifested 
great firmness in rejecting those which appeared 
unworthy of her support. These audiences oc- 
cupied an hour, and then she met, at eleven 
o'clock, the most distinguished ladies of the 
court at the breakfast-table. * Napoleon, entire- 
ly engrossed by those majestic plans he was 
ever conceiving and executing, usually break- 
fasted alone in his cabinet, very hastily, not al- 
lowing more than seven or eight minutes to be 
occupied by the meal. After breakfast, Jose- 
phine, with her ladies, took a short walk, if the 
weather was fair, or for half an hour played a 
game of billiards. The remainder of the morn- 
ing, until three o'clock, she passed in her apart- 
ment, with her chosen female friends, reading, 
conversing, and embroidering. Josephine her- 
self was an admirable reader, and the book they 
were perusing was passed alternately from hand 
to hand. No works were read but those of real 
value.' By common consent, all novels were 
banished from the circle, as Napoleon inveter- 
ately abominated every work of that kind. If 
he happened to find a novel in the hands of any 
of the attendants of the palace, he unhesitating- 
ly tossed it into the fire, and roundly lectured 
the reader upon her waste of time. "If Jose- 



A.D.1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 261 

Confidential interviews. The drive. Dressing for dinner 

phine had been a novel reader, she never could 
have acquired that mental energy which ena- 
bled her to fill with dignity and with honor ev- 
ery position she was called to occupy. 

Occasionally Napoleon would leave his cabi- 
net and enter the apartment of the empress 
where the ladies were reading. His presence 
was ever cordially greeted, and, with great so- 
ciability, he would for a few moments converse 
with his friends, and then return to his work. 
Not unfrequently the emperor wished to confer 
with Josephine upon some subject of moment. 
A gentle tap from his hand at the door of pri- 
vate communication announced to the empress 
the summons, which she ever most joyfully 
obeyed. Occasionally these interviews were 
protracted for several hours, for the emperor 
had learned to repose great confidence in many 
matters upon the sound judgment of Josephine. 

At three o'clock the carriages were at the 
door, and Josephine, with her ladies, rode out. 
It was very seldom that Napoleon could find 
time to accompany them. On returning from 
the drive, she dressed for dinner. Napoleon at- 
tached much importance to this grand toilet, 
for he was fully aware of the influence of cos- 
tume upon the public mind, and was very fond 



262 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Recreations of Napoleon. The dinner hour. 

of seeing Josephine dressed with elegance and 
taste.* It is reported that he not unfrequently 
recreated himself by entering her boudoir on 
such occasions, and suggesting the robe or the 
jewelry he would like to have her wear. Her 
waiting- women were not a little embarrassed 
by the manner in which his unskillful hands 
would throw about the precious contents of the 
caskets, and the confusion into which he would 
toss all the nameless articles of a lady's ward- 
robe. 

Dinner was appointed at six o'clock. It was, 
however, served when Napoleon was ready to 
receive it. Not unfrequently, when much en- 
grossed with business, he would postpone the 
hour until nine, and even ten o'clock. The 
cook, during all this time, would be preparing 
fresh viands, that a hot dinner might be ready 
at a moment's warning. A chicken, for in- 
stance, was put upon the spit every fifteen min- 
utes. Napoleon and Josephine always dined to- 
gether, sometimes alone, more frequently with 
a few invited guests. There was a grand mas- 
ter of ceremonies, who, on all such occasions, in- 
formed the grand marshal of the necessary ar- 
rangements, and of the seat each guest was to 
occupy. 



A.D.1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 263 

Dining in state. Evening parties 

Occasionally the emperor and empress dined 
in state. Rich drapery canopied the table, which 
was placed upon a platform, slightly elevated, 
with two arm-chairs of gorgeous workmanship, 
one for Napoleon, and the other, upon his left, 
for Josephine. Other tables were placed upon 
the floor of the same room for illustrious guests. 
The grand marshal announced to the emperor 
when the preparations for them to enter the 
room was completed. A gorgeous procession of 
pages, marshals, equeries, and chamberlains ac- 
companied the emperor and esmpress into the 
hall. Pages and stewards performed the sub- 
ordinate parts of the service at the table, in 
bringing and removing dishes, while noblemen 
of the highest rank felt honored in minister- 
ing to the immediate wants of their majesties. 
Those who sat at the surrounding tables were 
served by servants in livery. 

Josephine passed the evening in her apart- 
ment almost invariably with a party either of 
invited guests, or of distinguished ministers and 
officers of the empire, who, having called on bus- 
iness, were awaiting the pleasure of Napoleon. 
There were frequent receptions and levees, which 
filled the saloons of the palace with a brilliant 
throng. At midnight all company retired, and 



264 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

Josephine's love of solitude. Hunting parties. 

the palace was still. Josephine loved the silence 
of these midnight hours, when the turmoil of 
the day had passed, and no sounds fell upon her 
ear but the footfalls of the sentinel in the court- 
yard below. She often sat for an hour alone, 
surrendering herself to the luxury of solitude 
and of undisturbed thought. 

Such was the general routine of the life of 
Josephine while empress. She passed from one 
to another of the various royal residences, equal- 

. ly at home in all. *• At the Tuilleries, St. Cloud, 
Versailles, Rambouillet, and Fontainebleau, life 
was essentially the same. Occasionally, at the 
rural palaces, hunting parties were formed for 
the entertainment of distinguished guests from 

^abroad.* Napoleon himself took but little per- 
sonal interest in sports of this kind. On such 
occasions, the empress, with her ladies, usually 
rode in an open caleche, and a pic-nic was pro- 
vided, to be spread on the green turf, beneath 
the boughs of the forest. Once a terrified, pant- 
ing stag, exhausted with the long chase, when 
the hounds in full bay were just ready to spring 
upon him, by a strange instinct sought a retreat 
beneath the carriage in which the gentle heart 
of Josephine was throbbing. The appeal was 
not in vain. Josephine plead for the life of the 



A.D.1805.] Josephine an Empress. 265 

The protected stag. Letter from Josephine to Caroline. 

meek-eyed, trembling suppliant. To mark it 
as her favorite, and as living under the shield 
of her protection, she had a silver collar put 
around its neck. The stag now roamed its na- 
tive glades unharmed. No dog was permitted 
to molest it, and no sportsman would injure a 
protege of Josephine. Her love was its talis- 
man. 

The following letter, which at this time she 
wrote to Caroline, the sister of Napoleon, who 
had married Murat, will show the principles, in 
the exercise of which Josephine won to herself 
the love of all hearts. 

" Our glory, the glory of woman, lies in sub- 
mission ; and if it be permitted us to reign, our 
empire rests on gentleness and goodness. Your 
husband, already so great in the opinion of the 
world through his valor and exploits, feels as if 
he beheld all his laurels brought to the dust on 
appearing in your presence. You take a pride 
in humbling him before your pretensions ; and 
the title of being the sister of a hero is, with 
you, reason for believing yourself a heroine. Be- 
lieve me, my sister, that character, with the 
qualities which it supposes, becomes us not. 
Let us rejoice moderately in the glory of our 
husbands, and find our glory in softening their 



266 ^ Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Josephine's desire to accompany Napoleon. 

manners, and leading the world to pardon their 
deeds. Let us merit this praise, that the nation, 
while it applauds the bravery of our husbands, 
may also commend the gentleness bestowed by 
Providence on their wives to temper their brave- 
ry." 

The palace ever seemed desolate when Napo- 
leon was absent, and Josephine was always so- 
licitous to accompany him upon his tours. Na- 
poleon loved to gratify this wish, for he prized 
most highly the companionship of his only con- 
fidential friend. Upon one occasion, when he 
had promised to take the empress with him, cir- 
cumstances arose demanding special speed, and 
he resolved to set out secretly without her. He 
ordered his carriage at one o'clock in the morn- 
ning — an hour in which he supposed she would 
be most soundly asleep. To his amazement, 
just as he had stepped into his carriage, Jose- 
phine, in all the dishabille of her night-dress, 
with some slight drapery thrown over her person, 
and without even stockings upon her feet, threw 
herself into his arms. Some noise had at the 
moment awoke her, she caught an intimation of 
what was going on, and, without a moment's 
thought, sprang from her bed, threw over her a 
cloak, rushed down stairs, and burst into the 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 267 

Anecdote. Visit to Spain. Napoleon's star. 

carriage. Napoleon fondly embraced her, rolled 
her up warmly in his own capacious traveling 
pelisse, gave orders for suitable attendants to 
follow with the wardrobe of the empress, and 
the horses, with lightning speed, darted from the 
court-yard. " I could sooner," Napoleon would 
jocosely say, *' transport the whole artillery of a 
division of my grand army, than the bandboxes 
of Josephine's waiting- women." 

The visit which Josephine made with Napo- 
leon to Spain gave her such an insight into the 
Spanish character, that she looked with much 
alarm upon his endeavor to place one of his broth- 
: ers upon the Spanish throne. • "Napoleon," said 
she one day to her ladies, " is persuaded that he 
is to subjugate all the nations of the earth. He 
cherishes such a confidence in his star, that 
should he be abandoned to-morrow by family 
and allies, a wanderer, and proscribed, he would 
support life, convinced that he should triumph 
over all obstacles, and accomplish his destiny 
by realizing his mighty designs. Happily, we 
shall never have an opportunity of ascertaining 
whether I am right. But of this you may rest 
assured, ♦Napoleon is more courageous morally 
than physically. I know him better than any 
one else does. He believes himself predestinat- 



268 Josephine. [ A.D. 1805. 

Energy of Napoleon. The Spanish campaign. 

ed, and would support reverses with as much 
calmness as he manifests when confronting dan- 
ger on the field of battle." 

Little did Josephine 'imagine, when uttering 

these sentiments, that her proud husband, before 

whose name the world seemed to tremble, was 

to die in poverty and imprisonment on the most 

*• barren island of the ocean. 

The astounding energy of Napoleon was con- 
spicuously displayed about this time in his Span- 
ish campaign. He had placed Joseph upon the 
throne of Spain, and had filled the Peninsula 
with his armies. The Spaniards had every 
where risen against him, and, guided by En- 
glish councils, and inspirited by the tremendous 
energy of English arms, they had driven Joseph 
from his capital, had massacred, by the rage of 
the mob, thousands of French residents who 
were dwelling in the Spanish cities, and were 
rapidly driving the French army over the Pyr- 
enees. Napoleon had but just returned from 
the treaty of Tilsit when he was informed of 
this discouraging state of affairs. 

He immediately, without a moment allowed 
for repose, set out for Spain. Josephine earnest- 
ly entreated permission to accompany the em- 
peror. She assured him that she was fully 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 269 

Josephine left at St. Cloud. Enthusiastic greeting of Napoleon, 

aware of the difficulties, fatigue, and peril she 
must encounter, but that most cheerfully could 
she bear them all for the sake of being with 
him. She said that she should neither feel hun- 
ger nor cold, nor the need of repose, il she could 
but be by the side of her husband, and that all 
the privations of the camp would be happiness 
when shared with one who was all the world to 
her. Napoleon was deeply moved by this exhibi- 
tion of her love, but, aware of the incessant ac- 
tivity with which it would be necessary for him 
to drive by night and by day, he firmly but kind- 
ly denied her request. Josephine wept bitterly 
as they parted. 

One morning, early in November, 1808, the 
glittering cavalcade of the emperor, at the full 
gallop, drove into the encampment of the retreat- 
ing French at Vittoria. The arrival of an angel, 
commissioned from heaven to their aid, could not 
have inspired the soldiers with more enthusiasm. 
The heavens rang with the shouts of the mighty 
host, as they greeted their monarch with cries of 
" Vive I'Empereur !" Not one moment was lost. 
Napoleon placed himself at the head of his con- 
centrated army, and turning them, now inspir- 
ited with the utmost confidence, against the foes 
before whom they had been retreating, with the 



270 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Wonderful success of Napoleon. Alliance against him. 

resistlessness of an avalanche overwhelmed the 
Spanish forces. Wherever he appeared, resist- 
ance melted away before him. In the pride of 
achievements almost miraculous, he marched 
into Madrid, and there, in the capital of Spain, 
re-established his fallen throne. But he tarried 
not there an hour for indulgence or repose. The 
solid columns of the English army, under Sir 
John Moore, were still in Spain. Napoleon 
urged his collected forces, with all the energy 
which hatred could inspire, upon his English 
foes, and the Britons, mangled and bleeding, 
were driven into their ships. The conqueror, 
feeling that he was indeed the man of destiny, 
looked for a moment complacently upon Spain, 
again in subjection at his feet, and then, with 
the speed of the whirlwind, returned to Jose- 
phine at St. Cloud, having been absent but lit- 
tle more than two months. 
.^ In the mean time, while Napoleon was far 
away with his army, upon the other side of the 
Pyrenees, Russia, Sweden, and Austria thought 
it a favorable moment to attack him in his rear. 
They brought no accusations against the em- 
peror, they issued no proclamation of war, but 
secretly and treacherously conspired to march, 
with all the strength of their collected armies, 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 271 

His indignation roused. Austria violates the treaty. 

upon the unsuspecting emperor. It was an al- 
liance of the kings of Europe against Napoleon, 
because he sat upon the throne, not by heredi- 
tary descent, the only recognized divine right, 
but by the popular vote. The indignation of 
the emperor, and of every patriotic Frenchman, 
had been roused by the totally unjustifiable, but 
bold and honest avowal of England, that peace 
could only be obtained by the wresting of the 
crown from the brow of Napoleon, and replac- 
ing it upon the head of the rejected Bourbon. 

The emperor had been at St. Cloud but a short 
time, when, early one spring morning, a cour- 
ier came dashing into the court-yard of the pal- 
ace at his utmost speed, bringing the intelligence 
to Napoleon that Austria had treacherously vi- 
olated the treaty of peace, and, in alliance with 
Russia, Sweden, and England, was marching 
her armies to invade the territory of France. 
The emperor, his eye flashing with indignation 
hastily proceeded to the apartment of the em 
press with the papers communicating the intel 
ligence in his hand. Josephine was asleep, hav. 
ing but just retired. He approached her bed 
and, awaking her from sound slumber, request 
ed her to be ready in two hours to accompany 
him to Germany. " You have played the part 



272 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

Promptness of Josephine. Kindness of Napoleon. Their route. 

of an empress," said he, playfully, '' long enough. 
You must now become again the wife of a gen- 
eral. I leave immediately. Will you accom- 
pany me to Strasburg ?" This was short no- 
tice, but, with the utmost alacrity, she obeyed 
the joyful sumrtions. 

She was so accustomed to the sudden move- 
ments of the emperor that she was not often 
taken by surprise. Promptness was one of the 
most conspicuous of her manifold virtues. *' I 
have never," she has been heard to say, '* kept 
any one waiting for me half a minute, when to 
be punctual depended upon myself. Punctual- 
ity is true politeness, especially in the great." 

The emperor was in glowing spirits. He had 
no doubt that he should be entirely victorious, 
and Josephine was made truly happy by that 
suavity and those kind attentions which he in 
this journey so signally displayed. Their route 
conducted them through some of the most beau- 
tiful and fertile valleys of France. Every where 
around them they saw the indications of pros- 
perity and happiness. Napoleon was in the 
height of glory. The most enthusiastic accla- 
mations of love and homage greeted the emper- 
or and empress wherever the panting steeds 
which drew them rested for a moment. As 



A.D. 1805.] JosEPHii^E AN Empress. 273 

Effects of the conscription. Napoleon encourages marriages. 

they stopped for a new relay of horses in one of 
the little villages of Lorraine, Josephine beheld 
a peasant woman kneeling upon the steps of 
the village church, with her countenance bathed 
in tears. The aspect of grief ever touched the 
kind heart of the empress. She sent for the poor 
woman, and inquired into the cause of her grief. 

" My poor grandson, Joseph," said she, " is 
included in the conscription, and, notwithstand- 
iug all my prayers, he must become a soldier. 
And more than this, his sister Julie was to have 
been married to Michael, a neighbor's son, and 
liow he refuses to mai*ry her because Joseph is in 
the conscription. And should my son purchase 
a substitute for poor Joseph, it would take all 
his money, and he would have no dowry to give 
Julie. And her dowry was to have been a hun- 
dred and twenty dollars." 

" Take that," said the emperor, presenting 
th^ w6mah with a purse. " You will find 
Enough who will be ready to supply Joseph's 
place for that amount. I want soldiers, and, 
for that purpose, must encourage marriages." 
Josephine was so much interested in the adven- 
ture, that, as soon as she arrived at Strasburg, 
she sent a valuable bridal present to Julie. The 
good woman's prayers were answered. From 
S 



274 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

The battle at Ulm. Napoleon's advice to the Emperor of Austi-ia. 

Strasburg Josephine returned to Paris, while 
Napoleon pressed on to encounter the combined 
armies of Austria and Russia in the renowned 
campaign of Wagram. \ 

It was in 1805, some years before the events 
we have just described, that Napoleon, with his 
enthusiastic troops, embarked in the celebrated 
campaign of Ulm and Austerlitz. At Ulm he 
surrounded thirty thousand of his foes, and al- 
most without a skirmish compelled them to 
lay down their arms. "Your master," said he 
to the Austrian generals, as, almost dying with 
mortification, they surrendered their swords, 
" your master wages against me an unjust war. 
I say it candidly, I know not for what I am 
fighting. I know not what he desires of me. 
He has wished to remind me that I was once a 
soldier. I trust he will find that I have not for- 
gotten my original avocation. I will, however, 
give one piece of advice to my brother, the Em- 
peror of Austria. Let him hasten to make 
peace. This is the moment to remember that 
there are limits to all empires, however powerful. 
The idea that the house of Lorraine may come 
to an end should inspire him with distrust of 
fortune. I want nothing on the Continent. I 
desire ships^ colonies, and commerce. Their 



A.D.1805.] Josephine an Empress. 275 

His march down the Danube. Anxiety of Josephine. 

acquisition would be as advantageous to you as 
to me." 

From Ulm, Napoleon, with two hundred thou- 
sand men, flushed with victory, rushed like a 
tempest down the valley of the Danube, driving 
the terrified Austrians before him like chaff 
swept by the whirlwind. Ten thousand bomb- 
shells were rained down upon the roofs of Vi- 
enna, till the dwellings and the streets were 
deluged with the blood of innocence, and then 
the gates were thrown open for the entrance of 
the conqueror. Alexander, the Emperor of all 
the Russias, was hastening down from the North, 
with his barbarian hordes, to aid the beleaguered 
city. Napoleon tarried not at Vienna. Fear- 
lessly pushing on through the sleet and the hail 
of a Northern winter, he disappeared in the dis- 
tance from the eyes of France. Austria, Swe- 
den, Russia, were assembling their innumerable 
legions to crush him. He was far from home, 
in a hostile country. Rumors that his rashness 
had led to his ruin began to circulate through- 
out Europe. 

Josephine was almost distracted with anxiety 
respecting her husband. She knew that a ter- 
rible battle was approaching, in which he was 
to encounter fearful odds. The most gloomy 



276 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Arrival of a courier. His utter exhaustioru 

forebodings pervaded Paris and all France. 
Several days had passed, during which no intel- 
ligence whatever had been received, from the 
distant army. Ominous whispers of defeat and 
ruin filled the air. The cold blasts of a Decem- 
ber night were whistling around the towers of 
St. Cloud, as Josephine and a few of her friends 
were assembled in the saloon, anxiously await- 
ing tidings from Napoleon. It was no time for 
hilarity, and no one attempted even to promote 
festive enjoyment. The hour of nine o'clock 

. had arrived, and yet no courier appeared. All 
hopes of any tidings on that day were relin- 
quished. Suddenly the clatter of iron hoofs was 
heard as a single horseman galloped into the 

^ court-yard. Josephine almost fainted with emo- 
tion as she heard the feeble shout, " Victory — 
Austerlitz!" She rushed to the window and 
threw it open. The horse of the courier had 
fallen dead upon the pavement, and the exhaust- 
ed rider, unable to stand, was half reclining by^ 
his side. In the intensity of her impatience, 
Josephine rushed down the stairs and into the 
court-yard, followed by all her ladies. The 
faithful messenger was brought to her in the 
arms of four men. He presented to the empress 
a blurred and blotted line, which the emperor 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 277 

Battle of Austerlitz. Moustache the Mameluke. 

had written amid the thunder and the smoke, 
the uproar and the carnage of the dreadful day 
of Austerlitz. As soon as Napoleon saw the 
field covered with the slain, and the routed ar- 
mies of his foes flying in dismay before their 
triumphant pursuers, in the midst of all the hor- 
rors of that most horrible scene, he turned the 
energies of his impetuous mind from the hot 
pursuit to pen a line to his faithful Josephine, 
announcing the victory. The empress, with 
tears almost blinding her eyes, read the billet 
where she stood, by the light of a torch which an 
attendant had brought her. She immediately 
drew from her finger a valuable diamond ring, 
and presented it to the bearer of the joyful mes- 
sage. The messenger was Moustache the 
Mameluke, who had accompanied Napoleon 
from Egypt, and who was so celebrated for the 
devotion of his attachment to the emperor. He 
had ridden on horseback one hundred and fifty 
miles within twelve hours. 

Napoleon was exceedingly sensitive to any 
apparent want of affection or attention on the 
part of Josephine. A remarkable occurrence, 
illustrative of this sensitiveness, took place on 
his return from his last Austrian campaign. 
When he arrived at Munich, where he was de- 



278 Josephine. [A.D. 1805. 

Sensitiveness of Napoleon. His unreasonable anger. 

layed for a short time, he dispatched a courier 
to Josephine, informing her that he would be at 
Fontainebleau on the evening of the twenty-sev- 
enth, and expressing a wish that the court should 
be assembled there to meet him. He, however, 
in his eagerness, pressed on with such unantici- 
pated speed, that he arrived early in the morn- 
ing of the twenty-sixth, thirty-six hours earlier 
than the time he had appointed. He had actu- 
ally overtaken his courier, and entered with him 
the court-yard at Fontainebleau. Very unreas- 
onably annoyed at finding no one there to receive 
him, he said to the exhausted courier, as he was 
dismounting from his horse, "You can rest to- 
morrow ; gallop to St. Cloud, and announce my 
arrival to the empress." It was a distance of 
forty miles. Napoleon was very impatient all 
the day, and, in the evening, hearing a carriage 
enter the court-yard, he eagerly ran down, as 
was his invariable custom, to greet Josephine. 
To his great disappointment, the carriage con- 
tained only some of her ladies. " And where is 
the empress ?" he exclaimed, in surprise. " We 
have preceded her by perhaps a quarter of an 
hour," they replied. The emperor was now in 
very ill humor. " A very happy arrangement," 
said he, sarcastically; and, turning upon his 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine AN Empress. 279 

Anival of Josephine. Napoleon's confession. The reconciliation. 

heel, he ascended to the little library, where he 
had been busily employed. 

Soon Josephine arrived. Napoleon, hearing 
the carriage enter the court, coldly asked who 
had come. Being informed that it was the em- 
press, he moved not from his seat, but went on 
very busily with his writing. The attendants 
were greatly surprised, for he never before had 
been known to omit meeting the empress at her 
carriage. Josephine, entirely unconscious of 
any fault, and delighted with the thought of 
again meeting her husband, and of surprising 
him in his cabinet, hastened up stairs and en- 
tered the room. Napoleon looked up coldly from 
his papers, and addressed her with the chilling 
salutation, " And so, madame, you have come 
at last ! It is well. I was just about to set out 
for St. Cloud." Josephine burst into tears, and 
stood silently sobbing before him. Napoleon was 
conquered. His own conscience reproved him 
for his exceeding injustice. He rose from his 
seat, exclaiming, "Josephine, I am wrong ; for- 
give me ;" and, throwing his arms around her 
neck, embraced her most tenderly. The recon- 
ciliation was immediate and perfect, for the gen- 
tle spirit of Josephine could retain no resent- 
ment. 



280 Josephine. [A.D.1805. 

Napoleon's taste for dress. The young sailor. 

^ Napoleon had a very decided taste in refer- 
ence to Josephine's style of dress, and her only 
a^ibition was to decorate her person in a man- 
ijer which" would be agreeable to him. On this 
occasion she retired very soon to dress for din- 
ger. In about half aii hour sjie reappeared, 
dressed witji great elegance, in ^ robe of white 
^atin, bordered with eider down^ and with a 
W|*eatb. of blue flowers, entwined with silver 
ears of corn, adoruijig her h^ip Napoleon rosej 
to me^t her, and gazed upon heif with an expres- 
sion of great fondness. Josepl^ine said, with a 
^n^ile, " You do not think that I have occupied 
too much time at ruy toilet ?" Napoleon points 
^d playfully to the clock iipqia the mantel, which 
indicated the hour of half past seven, and, taking 
the hand of his wife, entered the dining-room. 

Thoi:!gh Napoleon often displayed the weak- 
nesses of our fallen nature, he at times exhibit- 
ed the noblest traits of humanity. On one oc- 
casion, at Boulogne, hq was informed of a young 
English sailor, a prisoner of war, who had es- 
caped from his imprisonment in the interior of 
France, and had succeeded in reaching the coast 
near that town. He had secretly constructed, 
in an unfrequented spot, a little skiff, of the 
branches and bark of trees, in which fabric, al- 
most as fragile as the ark of bulrushes, he was 



A.D. 1805.] Josephine an Empress. 281 

His fearlessness. Napoleon's magnanimity. 

intending to float out upon the storm-swept 
channel, hoping to be picked up by some En- 
glish cruiser and conveyed home. Napoleon 
was struck with admiration in view of the fear- 
lessness of the project, and, sending for the young 
man, questioned him very minutely respecting 
the motives which could induce him to under- 
take so perilous an adventure. The emperor 
expressed some doubt whether he would really 
have ventured to encounter the dangers of the 
ocean in so frail a skiff. The young man en- 
treated Napoleon to ascertain whether he was 
in earnest by granting him permission to carry 
his design into execution. '^ You must doubt- 
less, then," said the emperor, " hdve some mis- 
tress to revisit, since you are so desirous to re- 
turn to your country ?" '^ No !" replied the 
sailor, " I wish to see my mother. She is aged 
and infirm." The heart of the emperor was 
touched. "You shall see her," he energetical- 
ly and promptly replied. He immediately gave 
orders that the young man should be thorough- 
ly furnished with all comforts, and sent in a 
cruiser, with a flag of truce, to the first British 
vessel which could be found. He also gave the 
young man a purse for his mother, saying, " She 
must be no common parent who can have trained 
up so affectionate and dutiful a son." 



282 Josephine. [A.D. 1807. 

Napoleon's prospective heir. Death of the child 



Chapter XII. 

The Divorce and last Days. 

t A LLUSION has already been made to the 
•^-^ strong attachment with which Napoleon 
cherished his little grandchild, the son of Hor- 
tense and of his brother Louis. The boy was 
extremely beautiful, and developed all those 
noble and spirited traits of character which pe- 
culiarly delighted the emperor. Napoleon had 
apparently determined to make the young prince 
his heir. This was so generally the under- 
standing, both in France and in Holland, that 
Josephine was quite at ease, and serene days 
dawned again upon her heart. 

Early in the spring of 1807, this child, upon 
whom such destinies were depending, then five 
years of age, was seized suddenly and violently 
with the croup, and in a few hours died. The 
blow fell upon the heart of Josephine with most 
appalling power. Deep as was her grief at the 
loss of the child, she was overwhelmed with 
uncontrollable anguish in view of those fearful 
consequences which she shuddered to contem- 



A.D.1807.] Divorce and last Days. 283 

Grandeur of Napoleon. Struggle in his bosom. 

plate. She knew that Napoleon loved her 
fondly, but she also knew the strength of his 
ambition, and that he would make any sacrifice 
of his affection, which, in his view, would sub- 
serve the interests of his power and his glory. 
f For three days she shut herself up in her room, 
and was continually bathed in tears. 

The sad intelligence was conveyed to Napo- 
leon when he was far from home, in the midst 
of the Prussian campaign. He had been vic- 
torious, almost miraculously victorious, over 
his enemies. He had gained accessions of pow- 
er such as, in the wildest dreams of youth, he 
had hardly imagined. All opposition to his 
sway was now apparently crushed. Napoleon 

* had become the creator of kings, and the proud- 
est monarchs of Europe were constrained to do 
his bidding. It was in an hour of exultation 
that the mournful tidings reached him. He 
sat down in silence, buried his face in his hands, 
and for a long time seemed lost in the most 
painful musings. He was heard mournfully 
and anxiously to repeat to himself again and 

♦ again, " To whom shall I leave all this ?" The 
struggle in his mind between his love for Jose- 
phine and his ambitious desire to found a new 
dynasty, and to transmit his name and fame 



284 Josephine. [A.D. 1807. 

Dejection of Napoleon. His energy. Grief of Josephine. 

to all posterity, was fearful. It was manifest 
in his pallid cheek, in his restless eye, in the 
loss of appetite and of sleep. But the stern 
will of Bonaparte was unrelenting in its pur- 
poses. With an energy which the world has 
never seen surpassed, he had chosen his part. 
It was the purpose of his soul— the purpose be^ 
fore which every thing had to bend — to acquire 
the glory of making France the most illustri^ 
ous, powerful, and happy nation earth had ever 
seen. For this he was ready to sacrifice com- 
fort, ease, and his sense of right. For this he 
was ready to sunder the strongest ties of affec- 
tion. 

Josephine knew Napoleon. She was fully 
aware of his boundless ambition. With almost 
insupportable anguish she wept over the death 
of this idolized child, and, with a trembling 
heart, awaited her husband's return. Myste- 
rious hints began to fill the journals of the con- 
templated divorce, and of the alliance of Napo- 
leon with various princesses of foreign courts. 

In October, 1807, Napoleon returned from 
Vienna. He greeted Josephine with the great- 
est kindness, but she soon perceived that his 
mind was ill at ease, and that he was ponder- 
ing the fearful question. He appeared sad and 



A.D. 1807.] Divorce and last Days. 285 

Her forebodings. Napoleon absents himself from her society. 

embarrassed. He had frequent private inter- 
views with his ministers. A general feeling 
of constraint pervaded the court. Napoleon 
scarcely ventured to look upon his wife, as if 
apprehensive that the very sight of one whom 
he had loved so well might cause him to waver 
in his firm purpose. Josephine was in a state 
of the most feverish solicitude, and yet was 
compelled to appear calm and unconstrained.^ 
As yet she had only fearful forebodings of her 
impending doom. She watched, with most ex- 
cited apprehension, every movement of the em- 
peror's eye, every intonation of his voice, every 
sentiment he uttered. Each day some new 
and trivial indication confirmed her fears. Her 
husband became more reserved, absented him- 
self from her society, and the private access be- 
tween their apartments was closed. He now 
seldom entered her room, and whenever he did 
so, he invariably knocked. And yet not one 
word had passed between him and Josephine 
upon the fearful subject. Whenever Josephine 
heard the sound of his approaching footsteps, 
the fear that he was coming with the terrible 
announcement of separation immediately caused 
such violent palpitations of the heart that it 
was with the utmost difficulty she could totter 



286 Josephine. [A.B. 1807. 

Anguish of Napoleon. Difficulty in selecting a bride. 

across the floor, even when supporting herself 
by leaning against the walls, and catching at 
the articles of furniture. 

The months of October and November passed 
away, and, while the emperor was discussing 
with his cabinet the alliance into which he 
should enter, he had not yet summoned courage 
to break the subject to Josephine. The evi- 
dence is indubitable that he experienced intense 
anguish in view of the separation, but this did 
not influence his iron will to swerve from its 
purpose. *' The grandeur of his fame and the 
magnitude of his power were now such, that 
there was not a royal family in Europe which 
would not have felt honored in conferring upon 
him a bride. It was at first contemplated that 
he should marry some princess of the Bourbon 
family, and thus add to the stability of his 
throne by conciliating the Royalists of France. 
A princess of Saxony was proposed. Some 
weighty considerations urged an alliance with 
the majestic empire of Russia, and some advan- 
ces were made to the court of St. Petersburgh, 
having in view a sister of the Emperor Alexan- 
der. ^.It was finally decided that proposals should 
be made to the court of Vienna for Maria Lou- 
isa, daughter of the Emperor of Austria. 



A.D.1809.] Divorce and last Days. 287 



A silent dinner at Fontainebleau. 



^ At length the fatal day arrived for the an- 
nouncement to Josephine. It was the last day 
of November, 1809. The emperor and empress 
dined at Fontainebleau alone. She seems to 
have had a presentiment that her doom was 
sealed, for all that day she had been in her re- 
tired apartment, weeping bitterly. As the din- 
ner-hour approached, she bathed her swollen 
eyes, and tried to regain composure. They sat 
down at the table in silence. Napoleon did not 
speak. Josephine could not trust her voice to 
utter a word. Neither ate a mouthful. Course 
after course was brought in and removed un- 
touched. A mortal paleness revealed the an- 
guish of each heart. Napoleon, in his embar- 
rassment, mechanically, and apparently uncon- 
sciously, struck the edge of his glass with his 
knife, while lost in thought. A more melan- 
choly meal probably was never witnessed. The 
attendants around the table seemed to catch the 
infection, and moved softly and silently in the 
discharge of their duties, as if they were in the 
chamber of the dead. At last the ceremony of 
dinner was over, the attendants were dismissed, 
and Napoleon, rising, and closing the door with 
his own hand, was left alone with Josephine. 
Another moment of most painful silence ensued, 



288 Josephine. [A.D.1809. 

The communication to Josephine. Eftects thereof. 

when the emperor, pale as death, and trembling 
in every nerve, approached the empress. He 

ff took her hand, placed it upon his heart, and in 
faltering accents said, "Josephine! my ov^n 
good Josephine ! you know how I have loved 
you. It is to you alone that I owe the only few 
moments of happiness I have known in the world. 
Josephine ! my destiny is stronger than my will. 
My dearest affections must yield to the interests 
of France." 
ft Josephine's brain reeled ; her blood ceased to 
circulate ; she fainted, and fell lifeless upon the 
floor. Napoleon, alarmed, threw open the door 
of the saloon, and called for help. Attendants 
from the ante-room immediately entered. Na- 
poleon took a taper from the mantel, and utter- 
ing not a word, but pale and trembling, mo- 
tioned to the Count de Beaumont to take the 
empress in his arms. She was still unconscious 
of every thing, but began to murmur, in tones 

^* of anguish, "Oh, no! you can not surely do 
it. You would not kill me." The emperor led 
the way, through a dark passage, to the private 
staircase which conducted to the apartment of 
the empress. The agitation of Napoleon seemed 
now to increase. He uttered some incoherent 
sentences about a violent nervous attack ; and, 



A.D. 1809.] Divorce and last Days. 289 

Agitation of Napoleon. A night of anguish. 

finding the stairs too steep and narrow for the 
Count de Beaumont to bear the body of the help- 
less Josephine unassisted, he gave the light to 
an attendant, and, supporting her limbs himself, 
they reached the door of her bed-room. Napo- 
leon then, dismissing his male attendants, and 
laying Josephine upon her bed, rang for her 
waiting- women. He hung over her with an ex- 
pression of the most intense affection and anxi- 
ety until she began to revive. But the moment 
consciousness seemed returning, he left the room. 
Napoleon did not even throw himself upon his 
bed that night. He paced the floor until the 
dawn of the morning. The royal surgeon, Cor- 
visart, passed the night at the bed-side of the 
empress. Every hour the restless yet unrelent- 
ing emperor called at her door to inquire con- 
cerning her situation. '' On recovering from 
my swoon," says Josephine, '^ I perceived that 
Corvisart was in attendance, and my poor 
daughter, Hortense, weeping over me. No ! 
no ! I can not describe the horror of my situa- 
tion during that night! Even the interest he 
affected to take in my sufferings seemed to me 
additional cruelty. Oh ! how much reason had 
I to dread becoming an empress !" 

A fortnight now passed away, during which 
T 



290 Josephine. [A.D. 1809. 

Anniversary of the victory at Austerlitz. Eugene summoned from Italy 

Napoleon and Josephine saw but little of each 
other. During this time there occurred the an- 
niversary of the coronation, and of the victory 
of Austerlitz. Paris was filled with rejoicing. 
The bells rang their merriest peals. The me- 
tropohs was refulgent with illuminations. In 
these festivities Josephine was compelled to ap- 
pear. • She knew that the sovereigns and prin- 
ces then assembled in Paris were informed of 
her approaching disgrace. In all these sounds 
of triumph she heard but the knell of her own 
doom. And though a careful observer would 
have detected indications, in her moistened eye 
and her pallid cheek, of the secret woe which 
was consuming her heart, her habitual affabil- 
ity and grace never, in public, for one moment 
forsook her. Hortense, languid and sorrow- 
stricken, was with her mother. 

Eugene was summoned from Italy. He 
hastened to Paris, and his first interview was 
with his mother. From her saloon he went di- 
rectly to the cabinet of Napoleon, and inquired 
of the emperor if he had decided to obtain a di- 
vorce from the empress. Napoleon, who was 
very strongly attached to Eugene, made no re- 
ply, but pressed his hand as an expression that 
it was so. Eugene immediately dropped the 
hand of the emperor, and said. 



A.D. 1809.] Divorce and last Days. 291 

Interview with Napoleon. He is not without feeling. 

'' Sire, in that case, permit me to withdraw 
from your service." ^ 

" How !" exclaimed Napoleon, looking upon 
him sadly ; " will you, Eugene, my adopted 
son, leave me ?" 

'' Yes, sire," Eugene replied, firmly ; *' the 
son of her who is no longer empress can not re- 
main viceroy. I will follow my mother into her 
retreat. She must now find her consolation in 
her children." 

Napoleon was not without feelings. Tears 
filled his eyes. In a mournful voice, tremulous 
with emotion, he replied, ''Eugene, you know 
the stern necessity which compels this measure, 
and will you forsake me ? Who, then, should 
I have a son, the object of my desires and pre- 
server of my interests, who would watch over 
the child when X am absent? If I die, who 
will prove to him a father ? Who will bring 
him up ? Who is to make a man of him ?" 

Eugene was deeply affected, and, taking 
Napoleon's arm, they retired and conversed a 
long time together. The noble Josephine, ever 
sacrificing her own feelings to promote the hap- 
piness of others, urged her son to remain the 
friend of Napoleon. " The emperor," she said, 
" is your benefactor — your more than father, 



292 Josephine. [A.D. 1809. 

The council assembled. Address of Napoleon. 

to whom you are indebted for every thing, and 
to whom, therefore, you owe a boundless obedi- 
ence." 

t w The fatal day for the consummation of the 
divorce at length arrived. It was the 15th of 
December, 1809. Napoleon had assembled all 
the kings, princes, and princesses who were 
members of the imperial family, and also the 
most illustrious officers of the empire, in the 
grand saloon of the Tuilleries. Every individ- 
ual present was oppressed with the melancholy 
grandeur of the occasion. Napoleon thus ad- 
dressed them : 

'' The political interests of my monarchy, 
the wishes of my people, which have constantly 
guided my actions, require that I should trans- 
mit to an heir, inheriting my love for the peo- 
ple, the throne on which Providence has placed 

«. me. * For many years I have lost all hopes of 
having children by my beloved spouse, the Em- 
press Josephine. It is this consideration which 
induces me to sacrifice the sweetest affections 
of my heart, to consult only the good of my 
subjects, and to desire the dissolution of our 

* marriage. *• Arrived at the age of forty years, I 
may indulge a reasonable hope of living long- 
enough to rear, in the spirit of my own thoughts 



A.D.1809.] Divorce and last Days. 293 

He is still the friend of Josephine. Her response. 

and disposition, the children with which it may- 
please Providence to bless me. God knows 
what such a determination has cost my heart ; 
but there is no sacrifice which is above my 
courage, when it is proved to be for the inter- 
ests of France. Far from having any cause 
of complaint, I have nothing to say but in praise 
of the attachment and tenderness of my beloved 
wife. She has embellished fifteen years of my 
life, and the remembrance of them will be for- 
ever engraven on my heart. She was crowned 
by my hand ; she shall retain always the rank 
and title of empress. Above all, let her never 
doubt my feehngs, or regard me but as her best 
and dearest friend." 

Josephine, her eyes filled with tears, with a 
faltering voice, replied, " I respond to all the 
sentiments of the emperor in consenting to the 
dissolution of a marriage which henceforth is 
an obstacle to the happiness of France, by de- 
priving it of the blessing of being one day gov- 
erned by the descendants of that great man 
who was evidently raised up by Providence to 
•efface the evils of a terrible revolution, and to 
restore the altar, and the throne, and social or- 
der. But his marriage will in no respect change 
the sentiments of my heart. The emperor will 



294 Josephine. [A.D. 1809. 

The council again assembled. Consurnmation of the divorce. 

ever find in me his best friend. I know what 
this act, commanded by policy and exalted in- 
terests, has cost his heart, but we both glory in 
the sacrifices we make for the good of the coun- 
try. I feel elevated in giving the greatest proof 
of attachment and devotion that was ever giv- 
en upon earth." 

Such were the sentiments which were ex- 
pressed in public ; but in private Josephine sur- 
rendered herself to the unrestrained dominion 
of her anguish. No language can depict the 
'intensity of her woe. "'For six months she wept 
so incessantly that her eyes were nearly blind- 
ed with grief. Upon the ensuing day the coun- 
cil were again assembled in the grand saloon, 
to witness the legal consummation of the di- 
vorce. The emperor entered the room dressed 
in the imposing robes of state, but pallid, care- 
worn, and wretched. Low tones of voice, har^ 
monizing with the mournful scene, filled the 
room. Napoleon, apart by himself, leaned 
against a pillar, folded his arms upon his breast, 
and, in perfect silence, apparently lost in gloomy 
thought, remained motionless as a statue. A 
circular table was placed in the center of the 
apartment, and upon this there was a writing 
apparatus of gold. A vacant arm-chair stood 



A.D.1809.] Divorce and last Days. 295 



Entrance of Josephine. Emotion of Hortense, 



before the table. Never did a multitude gaze 
upon the scaffold, the block, or the guillotine 
with more awe than the assembled lords and 
ladies in this gorgeous saloon contemplated these 
instruments of a more dreadful execution. 

At length the mournful silence was interrupt- 
ed by the opening of a side door and the en- 
trance of Josephine. The pallor of death was 
upon her brow, and the submission of despair 
nerved her into a temporary calmness. She 
was leaning upon the arm of Hortense, who, 
not possessing the fortitude of her mother, was 
entirely unable to control her feelings. The 
sympathetic daughter, immediately upon enter- 
ing into the roorn, burst into tears, and contin- 
aied sobbing most convulsively during the whole 
remaining scene. The assembly respectfully 
arose upon the entrance of Josephine, and all 
were moved to tears. With that grace which 
ever distinguished her movements, she advanced 
silently to the seat provided for her. Sitting 
down, and leaning her forehead upon her hand, 
she listened to the reading of the act of separa- 
tion. Nothing disturbed the sepulchral silence 
of the scene but the convulsive sobbings of Hor- 
tense, blending with the mournful tones of the 
reader's voice. Eugene, in the mean time, pale 



296 Josephine. [A.D. 1809. 

Josephine signs the divorce. Anguish of Eugene. 

and trembling as an aspen leaf, had taken a po- 
sition by the side of his mother. Silent tears 
were trickling down the cheeks of the empress. 
% As soon as the reading of the act of separa- 
tion was finished, Josephine for a moment press- 
ed her handkerchief to her weeping eyes, and 
then, rising, in clear and musical, but tremulous 
tones, pronounced the oath of acceptance. She 
then sat down, took the pen, and affixed her sig- 
nature to the deed which sundered the dearest 
hopes and the fondest ties which human hearts 
can feel. Poor Eugene could endure this an- 
guish no longer. His brain reeled, his heart 
ceased to beat, and he fell lifeless upon the floor. 
Josephine and Hortense retired with the at- 
tendants who bore out the insensible form of 
the affectionate son and brother. It was a fit- 
ting termination of this mournful but sublime 
tragedy. 

« But the anguish of the day was not yet closed. 
Josephine, half delirious with grief, had another 
scene still more painful to pass through in tak- 
ing a final adieu of him who had been her hus- 
band. She remained in her chamber, in heart- 
rending, speechless grief, until the hour arrived 
in which Napoleon usually retired for the night. 
The emperor, restless and wretched, had just 



A.D. 1809.] Divorce and last Days. 297 

Last private interview between Josephine and Napoleon. 

placed himself in the bed from which he had 
ejected his most faithful and devoted wife, and 
the attendant was on the point of leaving the 
room, when the private door of his chamber 
was slowly opened, and Josephine tremblingly 
entered. Her eyes were swollen with grief, her 
hair disheveled, and she appeared in all the dis- 
habille of unutterable angijish. She tottered 
into the middle of the room, and approached the 
bed ; then, irresolutely stopping, she buried her 
face in her hands, and burst into a flood of tears. 
A feeling of delicacy seemed for a moment to 
have arrested her steps — a consciousness that 
she had now no right to enter the chamber of 
Napoleon ; but in another moment all the pent- 
up love of her heart burst forth, and, forgetting 
every thing in the fullness of her anguish, she 
threw herself upon the bed, clasped Napoleon's 
neck in her arms, and exclaiming, '' My hus- 
band ! my husband !" sobbed as though her heart 
were breaking. The imperial spirit of Napo- 
leon was for the moment entirely vanquished, 
and he also wept almost convulsively. He as- 
sured Josephine of his love — of his ardent and 
' undying love. In every way he tried to soothe 
and comfort her, and for some time they remain- 
ed locked in each other's embrace. The attend- 



298 Josephine. [A.D. 1810. 

The final adieu. Mental anguish of Napoleon. 

ant was dismissed, and for an hour they con- 
tinued together in this last private interview. 
Josephine then, in the experience of an inten- 
sity of anguish which few hearts have ever 
known, parted forever from the husband whom 
she had so long, so fondly, and so faithfully loved. 

After the empress had retired, with a deso- 
lated heart, to her i^amber of unnatural widow- 
hood, the attendant entered the apartment of 
Napoleon to remove the lights. He found the 
emperor so buried beneath the bed-clothes as to 
be invisible. Not a word was uttered. The 
lights were removed, and the unhappy monarch 
was left in darkness and silence to the dreadful 
companionship of his own thoughts. The next 
morning the death-like pallor of his cheek, his 
sunken eye, and the haggard expression of his 
countenance, attested that the emperor had 
passed the night in sleeplessness and suffering. IJy 

Great as was the wrong which Napoleon thus 
inflicted upon the noble Josephine, every one 
must be sensible of a certain kind of grandeur 
. which pervades the tragedy. When we con- 
template the brutal butcheries of Henry VHI., 
as wife after wife was compelled to place her 
head upon the block, merely to afford room for 
the indulgence of his vagrant passions ; when 



A.D.1810.] Divorce and last Days. 299 

Malmaison assigned to Josephine as her future residence. 

\ we contemplate George IV., by neglect and in- 
humanity driving Caroline to desperation and 
to crime, and polluting the ear of the world with 
the revolting story of sin and shame ; when we 
contemplate the Bourbons, generation after gen- 
eration, rioting in voluptuousness, in utter dis- 
regard of all the laws of God and man, while we 
can not abate one iota of oi^ condemnation of 
the great wrong which Napoleon perpetrated, 
we feel that it becomes the monarchies of Eu- 
rope to be sparing in their condemnation. 

The beautiful palace of Malmaison, which 
Napoleon had embellished with every possible 
attraction, and where the emperor and empress 
had passed many of their happiest hours, was 
assigned to Josephine for her future residence. 

'* Napoleon settled upon her a jointure of about 
six hundred thousand dollars a year. She was 
still to retain the title and the rank of Empress- 
Queen. 

The ensuing day, at eleven o'clock, all the 
household of the Tuilleries were assembled upon 
the grand staircase and in the vestibule, to wit- 
ness the departure of their beloved mistress from 
scenes where she had so long been the brightest 

^ ornament.* Josephine descended, veiled from 
head to foot. Her emotions were too deep for 



300 Josephine. [ A.D. 1810. 

Josephine leaves the Tuilleries. Madame de Rochefoucault 

utterance, and she waved an adieu to the affec- 
tionate and weeping friends who surrounded her. 
A close carriage, with six horses, was before the 
door. She entered it, sank back upon the cush- 
ions, buried her face in her handkerchief, and, 
sobbing bitterly, left the Tuilleries forever. 

Josephine was still surrounded with all the 
external splendor^|||f royalty. She was beloved 
throughout France, and admired throughout 
Europe. ^ Napoleon frequently called upon her, 
though, from motives of delicacy, he never saw 
her alone. He consulted her respecting all his 
plans, and most assiduously cherished her friend- 
ship. It was soon manifest that the surest way 
of securing the favor of Napoleon was to pay 
marked attention to Josephine. The palace of 
Malmaison, consequently, became the favorite 
resort of all the members of the court of Napo- 
leon. Soon after the divorce, Madame de Roche- 
foucault, formerly mistress of the robes to Jose- 
phine, deserting the forsaken empress, applied 
for the same post of honor in the household of 
Maria Louisa. Napoleon, when he heard of the 
application, promptly and indignantly replied, 
" She shall neither retain her old situation nor 
have the new one. I am accused of ungrateful 
conduct toward Josephine, but I do not choose 



A. D. 1810.] Divorce and last Days. 301 

Josephine submissive to her lot. Morning pai-ties. 

to have any imitators, more especially among 
those whom she has honored v^ith her confidence, 
and overwhelmed with benefits." 

Josephine remained for some time at Mal- 
maison. In deeds of kindness to the poor who 
surrounded her, in reading, and in receiving, 
with the utmost elegance of hospitahty, the^ 
members of the court of Napoleon, who were 
ever crowding her saloons, she gradually tc- 
gained her equanimity of spirit, and surrendered 
herself entirely to a quiet and pensive submis- 
sion. Napoleon frequently called to see her, 
and, taking her arm, he would walk for hours, 
most confidentially unfolding to her all his plans. 
He seemed to desire to do every thing in his 
power to alleviate the intensity of anguish with 
which he had wrung her heart. His own affec- 
tions clung still to Josephine, and her lovely and 
noble character commanded, increasingly, his 
homage. The empress was very methodical in 
all her arrangements, allotting to each hour its 
appointed duty. The description of the routine 
of any one day would answer about equally 
well for all. 

Ten o'clock in the morning was the reception 
hour. These morning parties, attended by the 
most distinsfuished members of Parisian socie- 



302 Josephine. [A.D.1810. 

Social habits. Daily routine at Malmaisoii. 

ty, none appearing except in uniform or in court 
costume, were always very brilliant. Some 
ten or twelve of the visitors were always pre- 
viously invited to remain to breakfast. At 
eleven o'clock they passed from the saloon to 
the breakfast-room, the empress leading, fol- 
lowed by her court according to their rank, she 
naming those who were to sit on her right and 
left. The repast, both at breakfast and dinner, 
ordinarily consisted of one course only, every 
thing excepting the dessert being placed upon 
the table at once. The empress had five at- 
tendants, who stood behind her chair ; all the 
guests who sat down with her had one each. 
Seven officials of different ranks served at the 
table. The breakfast usually occupied three 
quarters of an hour, when the empress, with 
her ladies and guests, adjourned to the gallery, 
which contained the choicest specimens of paint- 
ing and sculpture which the genius of Napo- 
leon could select. The prospect from the gal- 
lery was very commanding, and, in entire free- 
dom from constraint, all could find pleasant 
employment. Some examined with delight the 
varied works of art ; some, in the embrasures 
of the windows, looked out upon the lovely 
scenery, arid in subdued tones of voice engaged 



A.D.1810.] Divorce and last Days. 303 

The airing. The dinner hour. Mirthful evenings 

in conversation ; while the chamberlain in at- 
tendance read aloud from some useful and en- 
tertaining volume to Josephine, and those who 
wished to listen with her. At two o'clock the 
arrival of the carriages at the door was the sig- 
nal for the visitors to depart. Three open car- 
riages, when the weather permitted, were al- 
ways provided, each drawn by four horses. 
Madame d' Arberg, the lady of honor, one of the 
ladies in waiting, and some distinguished guest, 
accompanied the empress. Two hours were 
spent in riding, visiting improvements, and con- 
versing freely with the various employees on 
the estate. The party then returned to the 
palace, and all disposed of their time as they 
pleased until six o'clock, the hour of dinner. 
From twelve to fifteen strangers were always 
invited to dine. After dinner the evening was 
devoted to relaxation, conversation, backgam- 
mon, and other games. The young ladies, of 
whom there were always many whom Josephine 
retained around her, usually, in the course of 
the evening, withdrew from the drawing-room 
to a smaller saloon opening from it, where, with 
unrestrained glee, they engaged in mirthful 
sports, or, animated by th© music of the piano, 
mingled in the dance. Sometimes, in the buoy- 



304 Josephine. [A.D. 1810. 

Maniage of Napoleon and Maria Louisa. 

ancy of youthful joy, they forgot the demands 
of etiquette, and somewhat incommoded, by 
their merry laughter, the more grave company 
in the grand apartment. The lady of honor 
would, on such occasions, hint at the necessity 
of repressing the mirth. Josephine would in- 
variably interpose in their behalf. "My dear 
Madame d'Arberg," she would say, " suffer 
both them and us to enjoy, while we may, all 
that innocent happiness which comes from the 
heart, and which penetrates the heart." At 
eleven o'clock, tea, ices, and sweetmeats were 
served, and then the visitors took their leave. 
Josephine sat up an hour later conversing most 
freely and confidentially with those friends who 
were especially dear to her, and about midnight 
retired. 

.. ^ In the month of March, 1810, Maria Louisa 
arrived in Paris, and her marriage with Napo- 
leon was celebrated with the utmost splendor 
at St. Cloud. All France resounded with re- 
joicing as Napoleon led his youthful bride into 
the Tuilleries, from whence, but three months 
before, Josephine had been so cruelly ejected. 
The booming of the cannon, the merry pealing 
of the bells, the acclamations of the populace, 
fell heavily upon the heart of Josephine. She 



A.D. 1811.] Divorce and last Days. 305 

Birth of the King of Rome. Letter from Josephine. 

tried to conceal her anguish, but her pallid 
cheek and swimming eye revealed the severity 
of her sufferings. 

Napoleon continued, however, the frequency 
of his correspondence, and, notwithstanding the 
jealousy of Maria Louisa, did not at all inter- 
mit his visits. In a little more than a year 
after his marriage the King of Rome was born. 
-'*The evening in which Josephine received the 
tidings of his birth, she wrojte an affectionate 
and touching letter to Napoleon, congratulating 
him upon the event. This letter reveals so 
conspicuously the magnanimity of her princi- 
ples, and yet the feminine tenderness of her 
bleeding heart, that V7e can not refrain from in- 
serting it. It was dated at Navarre, at mid- 
night, the 20th of March, 1811. 

'' Sire, — Amid the numerous felicitations 
which you receive from every corner of Europe, 
from all the cities of France, and from each reg- 
iment of your army, can the feeble voice of a 
woman reach your ear, and will you deign to 
listen to her who so often consoled your sorrows, 
and sweetened your pains, now that she speaks 
to you only of that happiness in which all your 
wishes are fulfilled ? Having ceased to be your 
wife, dare I felicitate you on becoming a father? 
U 



306 Josephine. [A.B.1811. 

Josephine's interest in the son of Napoleon. 

Yes, sire, without hesitation, for my soul renders, 
justice to yours, in like manner as you know 
mine. I can conceive every emation you must 
experience, as you divine all that I feel at this 
moment, and, though separated, we are united 
by that sympathy which survives all events. 

" I should have desired to have learned the 
birth of the King of Rome from yourself, and not 
from the sound of the cannon of Evreux, or from 
the courier of the prefect. I know, however, 
that, in preference to all, your first attentions are 
due to the public authorities of the state, to the 
foreign ministers, to your family, and especially 
to the fortunate princess who has realized your 
dearest hopes. She can not be more tenderly 
devoted to you than I am. But she has been 
enabled to contribute more toward your happi- 
ness by securing that of France. She has, then, 
a right to your first feelings, to all your cares, 
and I, who was but your companion in times of 
difliculty — I can not ask more than for a place 
in your affections far removed from that occu- 
pied by the empress, Maria Louisa. Not till 
you have ceased to watch by her bed — not till 
you are weary of embracing your son, will you 
take the pen to converse with your best friend. 
I will wait, 



A.D.1811.] Divorce and last Days. 307 

Her joy at his birth. Her desire for information. 

" Meanwhile, it is not possible for me to de- 
lay telling you that, more than any one in the 
world, do I rejoice in your joy. And you will 
not doubt my sincerity when I here say that, 
far from feehng an affliction at a sacrifice nec- 
essary for the repose of all, I congratulate my- 
self on having made it, since I now suffer alone. 
But I am wrong ; I do not suffer while you are 
happy, and I have but one regret, in not having 
yet done enough to prove Jiow dear you were to 
me. I have no account of the health, of the em- 
press. I dare to depend upon you, sire, so far 
as to hope that I shall have circumstantial de- 
tails of the great event which secures the per- 
petuity of the name you have so nobly illustrat- 
ed. Eugene and Hortense will write me, im- 
parting their own satisfaction ; but it is from 
you that I desire to know if your child be well, 
if he resembles you, if I shall one day be per- 
mitted to see him. In short, I expect from you 
unlimited confidence, and upon such I have 
some claims, in consideration, sire, of the bound- 
less attachment I shall cherish for you while life 
remains." 

She had but just dispatched this letter to Na- 
poleon, when the folding-doors were thrown open 
with much state, and the announcement, " From 



308 Josephine. [A.D. 1811. 

A letter from Napoleon. Deep emotion of Josephine, 

the emperor," ushered in a page, the bearer of a 
letter. The fragile and beautiful youth, whom 
Josephine immediately recognized, had so care- 
fully secured the emperor's billet, from fear of 
losing it, that it took some time for him, in his 
slight embarrassment, to extricate it. Josephine 
was almost nervously excited till she received 
the note, and immediately retired with it to her 
own private apartment. Half an hour elapsed 
before she again made her appearance. Her 
whole countenance attested the intensity of the 
conflicting emotions with which her soul had 
been agitated. Her eyes were swollen with 
weeping, and the billet, which she still held in 
her hand, was blurred with her tears. She gave 
the page a letter to the emperor in reply, and 
then presented him, as an acknowledgment of 
her appreciation of the tidings he had brought, 
with a small morocco case, containing a dia- 
mond breastpin, and a thousand dollars in gold. 
She then, with a tremulous voice, and smil- 
ing through her tears, read the emperor's note 
to her friends. The concluding words of the 
note were, " This infant, in concert with our 
Eugene^ will constitute my happiness and that 
of France." As Josephine read these words 
with emphasis, she exclaimed, " Is it possible 



A.D. 1811.] Divorce and last Days. 309 

Amiability of Napoleon. He presents his son to Josephine. 

to be more amiable ! Could any thing be bet- 
ter calculated to soothe whatever might be 
painful in my thoughts at this moment, did I 
not so sincerely love tlie emperor? This unit- 
ing of my son with his own is indeed worthy 
of him who, when he wills, is the most delight- 
ful of men. This is it which has so much 
moved me." 

The emperor often afterward called upon her. 
He soon, notwithstanding the jealousy of Ma- 
ria Louisa, arranged a plan by which he pre- 
sented to Josephine, in his own arms, the idol- 
ized child. These interviews, so gratifying to 
Josephine, took place at the Royal Pavilion, 
near Paris, Napoleon and Madame Montesquieu, 
governess to the young prince, being the only 
confidants. In one of Josephine's letters to Na- 
poleon, she says, " The moment I saw you en- 
ter, leading the young Napoleon in your hand, 
was unquestionably one of the happiest of my 
life. It effaced, for a time, the recollection of 
all that had preceded it, for never have I re- 
ceived from you a more touching mark of af- 
fection." 

. The apartment at Malmaison which Napo- 
leon had formerly occupied remained exactly 
as it was when he last left it. Josephine her- 



310 Josephine. [A.D.1811. 

Generous conduct of Josephine. Letter to her superintendent. 

self kept the key, and dusted the room with her 
own hands. She would not permit a single 
article of furniture to be moved. The book he 
was last reading lay open upon the table, the. 
map he was consulting, the pen with which he 
wrote, the articles of clothing which he had left 
in his accustomed disorder, all remained un- 
touched. Josephine's bed-chamber was very 
simply furnished with white muslin drapery, 
the only ornament being the golden toilet serv- 
ice which she had received from the municipal- 
ity of Paris, and which, with characteristic 
generosity, she refused to consider as her own 
private property until Napoleon sent it to her. 
The following letter from Josephine, written at 
this time, pleasingly illustrates her literary pol- 
ish and the refinement of her taste. It was 
addressed to the superintendent, ordering some 
alterations at Malmaison. 

" Profit by my absence, dear F., and make 
haste to dismantel the pavilion of the acacias, 
and to transfer my boudoir into that of the or- 
angery. I should wish the first apartment of 
the suite, and which serves for an ante-room, to 
be painted with light green, with a border of 
lilachs. In the center of the panels you will 
place my fine engravings from Esther, and un- 



A.D. 1811.] Divorce and last Days. 311 



Refined taste of Josephine. 



der each of these a portrait of the distinguished 
generals of the Revolution. In the center of 
the apartment there must be a large flower- 
stand, constantly filled with fresh flowers in 
their season, and in each angle a bust of a French 
philosopher. I particularly mention that of 
Rousseau, which place between the two win- 
dows, so that the vines and foliage may play 
around his head. This will be a natural crown 
worthy of the author of Emile. As to my pri- 
vate cabinet, let it be colored light blue, with a 
border of ranunculus and polyanthus. Ten 
large engravings from the Gallery of the Mu- 
see, and twenty medallions, will fill up the pan- 
els. Let the casements be painted white and 
green, with double fillets, gilded. My piano, a 
green sofa, and two couches with correspond- 
ing covers, a secretaire, a small bureau, and a 
large toilet-glass, are articles you will not forget. 
In the center, place a large table, always cov- 
ered with freshly-gathered flowers, and upon the 
mantel-shelf a simple pendule, two alabaster 
vases, and double-branched girandoles. Unite 
elegance to variety, but no profusion. Nothing 
is more opposed to good taste. In short, I con- 
fide to you the care of rendering this cherished 
spot an agreeable retreat, where I may medi- 



312 Josephine. [A.D. 1813. 

Continued grief of Josephine. Palace of Navarre. 

tate, sleep it may be, but oftenest read, which 
last is sufficient to remind you of three hund- 
red volumes of my small edition." 

When Josephine first retired to Malmaison, 
where every thing reminded her of the emper- 
or, her grief for many months continued una- 
bated. To divert her attention. Napoleon con- 
ferred upon her the palace of Navarre. This 
was formerly a royal residence, and was re- 
nowned for its magnificent park. During the 
Revolution it had become much dilapidated. 
The elegant chateau was situated in the midst 
of the romantic forest of E vreux. The spacious 
grounds were embellished by parks, whose ven- 
erable trees had withstood the storms of centu- 
ries, and by beautiful streams and crystal lakes. 
The emperor gave Josephine nearly three hund- 
red thousand dollars to repair the buildings and 
the grounds. The taste of Josephine soon con- 
verted the scene into almost a terrestrial Eden, 
and Navarre, being far more retired than Mal- 
maison, became her favorite residence. 

Soon after Josephine had taken up her resi- 
dence at Navarre, she wrote the following letter 
to Napoleon, which pleasingly illustrates the 
cordiality of friendship which still existed be- 
tween them : 



A.D. 1813.] Divorce and last Days. 813 

Letter to Napoleon. Josephine desires repose. 

*' Sire, — I received this morning the welcome 
note which was written on the eve of your de- 
parture for St. Cloud, and hasten to reply to its 
tender and affectionate contents. These, in- 
deed, do not in themselves surprise me, but only 
as being received so early as fifteen days after 
my establishment here, so perfectly assured was 
I that your attachment would search out the 
means of consoling me under a separation ne- 
cessary to the tranquillity of both. The thought 
that your care follows me into my retreat ren 
ders it almost agreeable. 

" After having known ail the rapture of a 
love that is shared, and all the suffering of a 
love that is shared no longer — after having ex- 
hausted all the pleasures that supreme power 
can confer, and all the happiness of beholding 
the man whom I loved enthusiastically admired, 
is there aught else, save repose, to be desired ? 
"What illusions can now remain for me ? Ah 
such vanished when it became necessary to re- 
nounce you. Thus the only ties which yei 
bind me to life are my sentiments for you, at- 
tachment for my children, the possibility of 
still being able to do some good, and, above all, 
the assurance that you are happy. Do not, 
then, condole with me on my being here, dis- 



3^14 Josephine. [A.D. 1813. 

Occupations of Josephine at Navarre. M. Bourlier. 

tant from a court, which you appear to think I 
regret. Surrounded by those who are attached 
to me, free to follow my taste for the arts, I 
find myself better at Navarre than any where 
else, for I enjoy more completely the society of 
the former, and form a thousand projects which 
may prove useful to the latter, and which will 
embellish the scenes I owe to your bounty. 
There is much to be done here, for all around 
are discovered the traces of destruction. These 
I would efface, that there may exist no memo- 
rial of those horrible inflictions which your ge- 
nius has taught the nation almost to forget. 
In repairing whatever these ruffians of revolu- 
tion labored to annihilate, I shall diffuse com- 
fort around me, and the benedictions of the 
poor will afford me infinitely more pleasure 
than the feigned adulation of courtiers. 

'' I have already told you what I think of the 
functionaries in this department, but have not 
spoken sufficiently of the respectable bishop, 
M. Bourlier. Every day I learn some new 
trait which causes me still more highly to es- 
teem the man who unites the most enlightened 
benevolence with the most amiable disposition. 
He shall be intrusted with distributing my alms- 
deeds in Evreux, and, as he visits the indigent 



A.D. 1813.] Divorce and last Days. 315 

Character of Josephine's household. 

himself, I shall be assured that my charities 
are properly bestowed. 

" I can not sufficiently thank you, sire, for 
the liberty you have permitted me of choosing 
the members of my household, all of whom con- 
tribute to the pleasure of a delightful society. 
One circumstance alone gives me pain, name- 
ly, the etiquette of costume, which becomes a 
little tiresome in the country. You fear that 
there may be something wanting to the rank I 
have preserved should a slight infraction be al- 
lowed to the toilet of these gentlemen; but 
I believe that you are wrong in thinking they 
would for one moment forget the respect due 
to the woman who was once your companion. 
Their respect for yourself, joined to the sincere 
attachment they bear to me, which I can not 
doubt, secures me from the danger of ever be- 
ing obliged to recall what it is your wish that 
they should remember. My most honorable 
title is derived, not from having been crowned, 
but assuredly from having been chosen by you. 
None other is of value. That alone suffices for 
my immortality. 

" My circle is at this time somewhat more 
numerous than usual, there being several visit- 
ors, besides many of the inhabitants of Evreux 



316 Josephine. [A.D. 1813. 

Conversation between Napoleon and Josephine. 

and the environs, whom I see of course. I am 
pleased with their manners, with their admira- 
tion of you, a particular in which you know 
that I am not easily satisfied. In short, I find 
myself perfectly at home in the midst of my 
forest, and entreat you, sire, no longer to fancy 
to yourself that there is no living at a distance 
from court. Besides you, there is nothing there 
which I regret, since I shall have my children 
with me soon, and already enjoy the society of 
the small number of friends who remained faith- 
ful to me. Do not forget your friend. Tell 
her sometimes that you preserve for her an at- 
tachment which constitutes the felicity of her 
life. Often repeat to her that you are happy, 
and be assured that for her the future will thus 
be peaceful, as the past has been stormy, and 
often sad." 

\ Just before Napoleon set out on his fatal cam- 
paign to Russia, he called to see Josephine. 
Seated upon a circular bench in the garden, be- 
fore the windows of the saloon, where they could 
both be seen but not overheard, they continued 
for two hours engaged most earnestly in conver- 
sation. Josephine was apparently endeavoring 
to dissuade him from the perilous enterprise. 
His perfect confidence, however, seemed to as- 



A.D. 1813.] Divorce and last Days. 317 

Their last interview. Napoleon continues his correspondence. 

sure her that her apprehensions were groundless 
At last he arose and kissed her hand. She ac- 
companied him to his carriage, and bade him 
adieu.. This was their last interview but one. 
Soon Napoleon returned, a fugitive from Mos- 
cow. Days of disaster were darkening around 
his path. All Europe had risen in arms against 
him, and were on the march toward his capital. 
In the midst of the terror of those dreadful days, 
he sought a hurried interview with his most 
faithful friend. It was their last meeting. As 
he was taking his leave of Josephine, at the close 
of this short and melancholy visit, he gazed upon 
her a moment in silence, tenderly and sadly, and 
then said, " Josephine ! I have been as fortunate 
as was ever man on the face of this earth. But, 
in this hour, when a storm is gathering over my 
head, I have not, in this wide world, any one but 
you upon whom I can repose." 

In the fearful conflict which ensued — the most 
terrible which history has recorded — Napoleon's 
thoughts ever reverted to the wife of his youth. 
He kept up an almost daily correspondence with 
her, informing her of the passing of events. His 
letters, written in the midst of all the confusion 
of the camp, were more affectionate and confid- 
ing than ever. Adversity had softened his heart. 



318 Josephine. [A.D. 1813. 

Days of disaster. Approach of the allied armies. 

In these dark days, when, with most Herculean 
power, he was strugghng against fearful odds, 
and his throne was crumbling beneath his feet, 
it was observed that a letter from Josephine was 
rather torn than broken open, so great was the 
eagerness of Napoleon to receive a line from her. 
Wherever he was, however great the emergen- 
cy in which he was placed, the moment a cour- 
ier brought to him a letter from Josephine, all 
other business was laid aside until it had been 
read. 

The allied armies were every day approach- 
ing nearer and nearer to Paris, and Josephine 
was overwhelmed with grief in contemplating 
the disasters which were falling upon Napoleon. 
At Malmaison, Josephine and the ladies of her 
court were employed in forming bandages and 
scraping lint for th^ innumerable wounded who 
filled the hospitals. The conflicting armies ap- 
proached so near to Malmaison that it became 
dangerous for Josephine to remain there, and, in 
great apprehension, she one morning, at eight 
o'clock, took her carriage for Navarre. Two or 
three times on the road she was alarmed by the 
cry, " Cossacks ! Cossacks !" When she had 
proceeded about thirty miles, the pole of her 
carriage broke, and at the same time a troop of 



A.D.1814.] Divorce and last Days. 319 

Alarm of Josephine. Accident. Josephine at Navarre. 

horsemen appeared in the distance, riding down 
upon her. They were French hussars ; but Jo- 
sephine thought that they were either Cossacks 
or Prussians, and, though the rain was falling 
in torrents, in her terror she leaped from the 
carriage, and began to fly across the fields. She 
had proceeded some distance before her attend- 
ants discovered the mistake. The carriage be- 
ing repaired, she proceeded the rest of her way 
unmolested. The empress hardly uttered a 
word during this melancholy journey, but upon 
entering the palace she threw herself upon a 
couch, exclaiming, "Surely, surely Bonaparte 
is ignorant of what is passing within sight of 
the gates of Paris, or, if he knows, how cruel 
the thoughts which must now agitate his breast ! 
Oh ! if he had listened to me." 

Josephine remained for some days at Navarre, 
in a state of most painful anguish respecting the 
fate of the emperor. She allowed herself no re- 
laxation, excepting a solitary ride each morning 
in the park, and another short ride after dinner 
with one of her ladies. The Emperor Alexan- 
der had immediately sent a guard of honor to 
protect Josephine from all intrusion. Hundreds 
of thousands of soldiers were swarming in all di- 
rections, and every dwelling was filled with ter- 



320 Josephine. [ A.D. 1814. 

&. melancholy incident. Brutality of the Cossacks. 

ror and distraction. One melancholy incident 
we will record, illustrative of hundreds which 
might be narrated. Lord Londonderry, in the 
midst of a bloody skirmish, saw a young and 
beautiful French lady, the wife of a colonel, in 
a oaleche, seized by three brutal .Russian sol- 
diers, who were carrying off, into the fields, their 
frantic and shrieking victim. The gallant En- 
glishman, sword in hand, rushed forward for her 
deliverance from his barbarian allies. He suc- 
ceeded in rescuing her, and, in the confusion of 
the battle still raging, ordered a dragoon to take 
her to his own quarters till she could be provided 
with suitable protection. The dragoon took the 
lady, half dead with terror, upon his horse be- 
hind him, and was galloping with her to a place 
of safety, when another ruffian band of Cossacks 
surrounded him, pierced his body with their sa- 
bers, and seized again the unhappy victim. She 
was never heard of more. The Emperor Alex- 
ander was greatly distressed at her fate, and 
made the utmost, though unavailing efforts to 
discover what had become of her. The revela- 
tions of the last day alone can divulge the hor- 
rors of this awful tragedy. 

The grief of Josephine in these days of anxi- 
ety was intense in the extreme. She passed 



A,D.1814.] Divorce and last Days. 3^1^ 

Affecting note from Napoleon. His downfall 

her whole time in talking about Napoleon, or in 
reading the letters she had lately received from 
him. He wrote frequently, as he escaped from 
place to place, but many of his letters were in- 
tercepted by the bands of soldiers traversing ev- 
ery road. The last she had received from him 
was dated at Brienne. It gave an account of a 
desperate engagement, in which the little band 
*" ^ of Napoleon had been overwhelmed by numbers, . 
and was concluded with the following affecting 
words : " On beholding those scenes where I 
had passed my boyhood, and comparing my 
peaceful condition then with the agitation and 
terrors which I now experience, I several times 
said, in my own mind, I have sought to meet 
death in many conflicts ; I can no longer fear it. 
To me death w^ould now be a blessing. But I 
would once more see Josephine." 

Notwithstanding the desperate state of affairs, 
Josephine still cherished the hope that his com- 
manding genius would yet enable him to re- 
trieve his fortunes. All these hopes were, how- 
ever, dispelled on the receipt of the followins: 
letter : 

" Fontaiuebleau, April 16, 1814. 

"Dear Josephine, — I wrote to you on the 
eighth of this month, but perhaps you have not 



322 Josephine. [A.D. 1814. 

Letter from Napoleon to Josephine. False frienda. 

received my letter. Hostilities still continued, 
and possibly it may have been intercepted. At 
present the communications must be re-estab- 
lished. I have formed my resolution. I have 
no doubt that this billet will reach you. I will 
not repeat what I said to you. Then I lament- 
ed my situation, now I congratulate myself upon 
it. My head and spirit are freed from an enor- 
mous weight. My fall is great, but it may, as 

* men say, prove useful. * In my retreat I shall 
substitute the pen for the sword. The history 
of my reign will be curious. The world has yet 
seen me only in profile. I shall show myself in 
full. How many things have I to disclose ! how 
many are the men of whom a false estimate is 
entertained ! I have heaped benefits upon mill- 

♦ ions of wretches ! What have they done in the 
end for me ? They have all betrayed me — ^yes, 
all. I except from this number the good Eu- 
gene, so worthy of you and of me. Adieu ! my 
dear Josephine. Be resigned as I am, and nev- 
er forget him who never forgot, and never will 
forget you. Farewell, Josephine. 

"Napoleon. 
"P.S. — I expect to hear from you at Elba. 
I am not very well." 



A.D.1814.] Divorce and last Days. 323 

Josephine resolves not to abandon Napoleon. Honor paid to Josephine. 

Upon reading these tidings of so terrible an 
overthrow, Josephine v^^as overv^rhelmed with 
grief, and for a time wept bitterly. Soon, how- 
ever, recovering her self-possession, she ex- 
claimed, "I must not remain here. My pres- 
ence is necessary to the emperor. That duty is, 
indeed, more Maria Louisa's than mine, but the 
emperor is alone — forsaken. Well, I at least 
will not abandon him. I might be dispensed 
with while he was happy ; now, I am sure that 
he expects me." After a pause of a few mo- 
ments, in which she seemed absorbed in her own 
thoughts, she addressed her chamberlain, say- 
ing, " I may, however, interfere with his ar- 
rangements. You will remain here with me 
till intelligence be received from the allied sov- 
ereigns ; they will respect her who was the wife 
of Napoleon." 

She was indeed remembered by them. The 
magnanimity of her conduct under the deep 
wrongs of the divorce had filled Europe with 
admiration. The allied sovereigns sent her as- 
surances of their most friendly regards. They 
entreated her to return to Malmaison, and pro- 
vided her with an ample guard for her protec- 
tion. Her court was ever crowded with the 
most illustrious monarchs and nobles, who 



324 Josephine. [ A.D. 1814. 

Commendation of Alexander. Letter to Napoleon. 



sought a presentation to do homage to her vir- 
tues. The Emperor Alexander was one of the 
first to visit her. He said to her on that occa- 
sion, " Madam, I burned with the desire of 
beholding you. Since I entered France, I have 
never heard your name pronounced but with 
benedictions. In the cottage and in the palace 
I have collected accounts of your angelic good- 
ness, and I do myself a pleasure in thus pre- 
senting to your majesty the universal homage 
of which I am the bearer." 

^ Maria Louisa, thinking only of self, declined 
accompanying Napoleon to his humble retreat. 
Josephine, not knowing her decision, wrote to 
the emperor : " Now only can I calculate the 
whole extent of the misfortune of having beheld 
my union with you dissolved by law. Now do 
I indeed lament being no more than your friend, 
who can but mourn over a misfortune great as 
it is unexpected. Ah ! sire, why can I not fly 
to you ? Why can I not give you the assur- 
ance that exile has no terrors save for vulgar 
minds, and that, far from diminishing a sincere 
attachment, misfortune imparts to it a new 
force ? I have been upon the point of quitting 
France to follow your footsteps, and to conse- 
crate to you the remainder of an existence 



A.D. 1814.] Divorce and last Days. S26 

Illustrious party at Malmaison. Illness of Josephine. 

which you so long embellished. A single mo- 
tive restrained me, and that you may divine. 
If I learn that I am the only one who will ful- 
fill her duty, nothing shall detain me, and I 
will go to the only place where, henceforth, 
there can be happiness for me, since I shall be 
able to console you when you are there isolated 
and unfortunate ! Say but the word, and I de- 
part. Adieu, sire ; whatever I would add 
would still be too little. It is no longer by 
words that my sentiments for you are to be 
proved, and for actions your consent is neces- 
sary." 

A few days after this letter was written, the 
Emperor Alexander, with a number of illustri- 
ous guests, dined with Josephine at Malmai- 
son. In the evening twilight, the party went 
out upon the beautiful lawn in front of the 
house for recreation. Josephine, whose health 
had become exceedingly precarious through care 
and sorrow, being regardless of herself in devo- 
tion to her friends, took a violent cold. The 
next day she was worse. Without any very 
definite form of disease, she day after day grew 
more faint and feeble, until it was evident that 
her final change was near at hand. Eugene 
and Hortense, her most affectionate children, 



326 Josephine. [A.D. 1814. 

Josephine always desired the happiness of France. Afi'ecting prayer. 

were with her by day and by night. They 
communicated to her the judgment of her phy- 
sician that death was near. She heard the 
tidings with perfect composure, and called for 
a clergyman to administer to her the last rites 
of religion. 

Just after this solemnity the Emperor Alex- 
ander entered the room. Eugene and Hortense, 
bathed in tears, were kneeling at their mother's 
side. Josephine beckoned to the emperor to 
approach her, and said to him and her children, 
" I have always desired the happiness of France. 
I did all in my power to contribute to it ; and 
I can say with truth, to all of you now present, 
at my last moments, that the first wife of Na- 
poleon never caused a single tear to flow." 
* *She called for the portrait of the emperor; 
she gazed upon it long and tenderly ; and then, 
fervently pressing it in her clasped hands to her 
bosom, faintly articulated the following prayer : 
«" O God ! watch over Napoleon while he re- 
mains in the desert of this world. Alas ! though 
he hath, committed great faults, hath he not 
expiated them by great sufferings ? Just God, 
thou hast looked into his heart, and hast seen 
by how ardent a desire for useful and durable 
improvements he was animated. Deign to ap- 



A.D.1814.] Divorce and last Days. 327 

Death of Josephine. Tribute to her memory by Alexander. 

prove my last petition. And may this image 
of my husband bear me witness that my latest 
wish and my latest prayer were for him and 
my children." 

It was the 29th of May, 1814. A tranquil 
summer's day was fading away into a cloud- 
less, serene, and beautiful evening. The rays 
of the setting sun, struggling through the foli- 
age of the open window, shone cheerfully upon 
the bed where the empress was dying. The 
vesper songs of the birds which filled the groves 
of Malmaison floated sweetly upon the ear, and 
the gentle spirit of Josephine, lulled to repose 
by these sweet anthems, sank into its last sleep. 
Gazing upon the portrait of the emperor, she 
^exclaimed, " L'isle d'Elbe — Napoleon!" and 
died. 

Alexander, as he gazed upon her lifeless re- 
mains, burst into tears, and uttered the follow- 
ing affecting yet just tribute of respect to her 
memory : '' She is no more ; that woman whom 
France named the beneficent, that angel of 
goodness, is no more. Those who have known 
Josephine can never forget her. She dies re- 
gretted by her offspring, her friends, and her 
cotemporaries." 

For four days her body remained shrouded 



328 Josephine. [A.D. 1814. 

Funeral ceremonies. Monumental inscription. 

in state for its burial. During this time more 
than twenty thousand of the people of France 
visited her beloved remains. On the 2d of 
June, at mid-day, the funeral procession moved 
from Malmaison to Ruel, where the body was 
deposited in a tomb of the village church. The 
funeral services were conducted with the great- 
est magnificence, as the sovereigns of the allied 
armies united with the French in doing honor 
to her memory. When all had left the church 
but Eugene and Hortense, they knelt beside 
their mother's grave, and for a long time min- 
gled their prayers and their tears. A beautiful 
monument of white marble, representing the 
empress kneeling in her coronation robes, is 
erected over her burial-place, with this simple 
but affecting inscription : 

EUGENE AND HORTENSE 



JOSEPHINE. 



THE END. 



ABBOTT '§ SIlTOEIi^ 



IN COURSE OF PUBLICATION 

Stf lurpn* mi 3Drntlira, Mm ^nxt 

*#* Each Volume of this Series is printed and bound 
uniform with the other Volumes, and is adorned with a 
richly-illuminated title-page and numerous Engravings. 
12mo, Muslin, plain edges, 60 cents per volume ; Muslin, 
gilt edges, 75 cents per volume. 

3fHaq (kum nf Irnts. 

This history is given here minute in every point of real interest, and 
without the encumbrance of useless opinions. There is no sentence 
thrown away — no time lost in mere ornament. Perhaps no book extant 
containing so few pages, can be said to convey so many genuine historical 
facts. There is here no attempt to glaze over recorded truth, or win the 
reader by sophistry to opinions merely those of the author. The pure, 
■imple history of Queen Mary is placed before the reader, and each on« 
is left to form an unbiased opinion from events impartially recorded there. 
One great and most valuable feature in this little work is a map of Scot* 
land, with many engravings of the royal castles and wild scenes connect* 
td with Mary's history. There is also a beautiful portrait of the Queen, 
Mid a richly illuminated title-page s»ch as only the Harpers can get ao 
-National Magazine. 



(turn (Bil}M^. 



Full of instructive and heart-stirring incident, displayed by the haoo 
of a master. We doubt whether old Queen Bess ever before had so much 
justice done to her within the same compasi. Such a pen as Jacob Ab- 
<>ott wields, especially in this department of our literature, has no right 
to lie still — Albany Exvre.t.t 



2 Abbotfs Historical Series. 

Cljarte t^t fmi 

We incline to think that there never was before so much said about 
this unfortunate monarch in so short a space ; so much to the purpose , 
with so much impartiality ; and in such a style as jusi suits those for 
whom it is designed — the " two millions" of young persons in the United 
States, who ought to be supplied with such works as these. The en- 
gravings represent the prominent persons and places of the history, and 
are well executed. The portrait of John Hampden is charming. The 
antique title-page is rich. — Southern Christian Advocate. 



=iaiittiliol tljj Carttiagminti. 

Anew volume of the series projected by the skillful book-manufacturer, 
Mr. Abbott, who displays no little tact in engaging the attention of that 
marvellous body " the reading public" in old scholastic topics hitherto 
almost exclusively the property of the learned. The latter, with their 
ingenious implements of lexicons and scholia, will be in no danger of be- 
ing superseded, however, while the least-furnished reader may gain 
something from the attractively-printed and easily-perused volumes of 
Mr. Abbott. The story of Hannibal is well adapted for popular treatmentp 
and loses nothing for this purpose in the present explanatory and picto- 
rial version.— Z(t7erary World. 



Mam Mmtik. 



In a style copious and yet forcible, with an expression singularly clear 
and happy, and in language exceedingly chaste and at times very beao 
tiful, he has given us a plain, unvarnished narrative of facts, as he him 
self says, unclogged by individual reflections which would " only encum- 
ber rather than enforce." The present work wants none of the interest 
inseparably connecting itself with the preceding numbers of the sama 
series, but is characterized throughout by the same peculiar beauties, 
riveting the attention and deeply engraving on the mind the information 
vth which they every where teem. — Evening Mirror. 



Abbotfs Historical Series. 3 

The history of Alexander the Great, as penned by Jacob Abbott, win 
be read with thrilling interest. It is profusely embellished, containing 
maps of the Expedition of Alexander, of Macedon and Greece, the plain 
of Troy, the Granicus, and the plain of Issus ; and engravings of Alex 
ander and Bucephalus ; Paris and Helen ; the bathing in the river Cyn- 
Jus ; the siege of Tyre ; Alexander at the siege of Susa ; and the pro- 
posed improvement of Mount Athos. It is written in & most graphic and 
attractive style. — Spectator. 



Ctiatlts tliB §)muh. 

A valuable engraving of Lely's portrait of Cromwell opens the book, 
and there are several illustrative wood engravings and an illuminated 
title-page. This is a comprehensive and simple narration of the main 
features of the period during which Charles the Second reigned, and it 
IB done with the clear scope and finely- written style which would be ex- 
pected from the pen of Jacob Abbott — one of the most able and useful 
literary men, as he is one of the very best teachers of his time. — Home 
Journal. 



%[m tonr. 



The author seems gifted with that peculiar faculty, possessed by so 
few, of holding communion with and drawing out ardent imagination and 
budding genius, and at the same time of directing both into the great 
channel of truth. The labors of such a man are productive of incalcu- 
lable good, and deserve the highest reward. — New Hampshire Patriot 



%u^tix^ tilt l^irM. 

Mr. Abbott's entertaining and instructive historical works are becom- 
tag more and more popular, and are undoubtedly among the best of the 
many condensed histories that have been written. For young people we 
know of nothing more entertaining or better calculated to excite a desire 
to become acquainted with the leading events of history. — Buffalo Cow 



4 AbboWs Historical Series, 

We know of no writer in this country whose style and ability bettei 
6t him for such a service. They are admirable works for youth, and 
make a valuable fund of reading for the fireside and for schoc.s. — Nnt 
York Evangelist. 



%\ixt\ \\t §xt± 



History, under the pen of Mr. Abbott, discloses its narratives and ut- 
ters its lessons in a style of great simplicity and intelligence, and, above 
all, with no danger of detriment to morals. He has selected his field 
with excellent taste, and we shall be glad to see his series pursued in 
definitely. In their line, these volumes have never been surpassed.— 
Bavtist Recorder. 



Mr. Abbott's design to write a succession of histories for the young ii ,jjg^ 
admirable, and worthy of all encouragement, and the manner in which i^Hf 
he has executed his work thus far is most excellent. Let him be en- hH 
couraged to proceed till he has reached the last volume of history, that WW 
the coming generation may turn from the world of romance to that of 
reality, and learn that what is and has been is as brilliant in character, 
Ks glorious in description, and as captivating in detail, as that which the 
genius of fiction ever created. — Observer. 



Mm tpt CnnqMnr. 

These historical memoirs by Mr. Abbott are marked by their great 
Impartiality, condensation of facts and picturesqueness of style ; hie 
practiced and elegant pen has, in Mary Queen of Scots and Charles th« 
First, invested the historic page with the brilliancy and fascination of 
romance. — Mirror 



AbbotVs Historical Series. b 

dimn i^t (irwt. 

"The grand exceller;ce of these little volumes is, that those points oi 
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which too often receive but little attention from those who write foi 
youth, are brought forward into their proper station and so successfully 
treated, that the weakest capacities may become interested and stronger 
ones profited. The maps and engravings, of which there are many, add 
much to their value." 



KINGS AND (jHEENS 



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